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DAMEN'S     GHOST. 

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"A  book  which  commands  remarkably  the  reader's  attention."  — 
Boston  Globe. 

"  The  dramatic  interest  of  the  story  is  very  strong,  and  the  mystery 
is  cleverly  concealed  until  the  critical  moment.  The  animation  with 
which  all  is  told  from  beginning  to  end  holds  the  reader's  attention 
firmly  and  pleasantly,  and  leaves  an  impression  highly  flattering  to  the 
culture,  the  powers  of  observation,  and  the  talents  of  its  writer."  — 
Boston  Gazette. 

Concerning  this  book,  the  St.  Paul  Pioneer  Press  speaks  thus  : 
"  Were  it  possible  for  any  one  to  be  thoroughly  conversant  with  the 
works  of  the  great  novelists,  and  yet  retain  no  memory  of  names  or 
events,  he  would  say  unhesitatingly  that  Chapter  IV.  was  written  by 
Dickens  in  his  happiest  vein.  .  .  .  The  library  of  fiction  is  enriched 
by  the  best  of  a  good  series." 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.    Sent,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
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TICKNOR  AND    COMPANY,  BOSTON. 


AGNES   SURRIAGE 


BY 


EDWIN   LASSETTER  .BYNNER 

AUTHOR  OF  "DAMEN'S  GHOST,"  "PENELOPE'S  SUITORS" 
ETC. 


Copyright,  1886, 
BY  EDWIN  LASSETTER  BYNNER. 


rights  reserved. 


SEnifcrrsttg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDC 


PREFACE. 


O  TUDENTS  of  early  American  history  are  already 
^  familiar  with  the  romantic  story  upon  which 
this  book  is  founded,  and  will  recognize  the  struc 
tural  events  as  well-known  historical  facts.  To  others 
the  truth  may  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for  the  use 
of  incidents  which  the  story-teller  of  to-day  would 
hesitate  to  introduce. 

Unwilling  to  be  suspected  of  inventing  truths  so 
much  stranger  than  fiction,  the  author  thinks  it  fit 
ting  to  premise  this  brief  word  of  explanation.  Very 
glaclly,  too,  he  avails  himself  of  the  same  opportunity 
to  express  grateful  acknowledgments  to  all  those  who 
have  in  any  way  aided  him  in  his  researches. 

Chief  among  these,  thanks  are  due  to  Miss  Amy 
Whinyates,  of  Cheltenham,  England,  a  member  of 
the  Frankland  family,  for  much  interesting  infor 
mation  and  valuable  unpublished  memoranda ;  to 
Dr.  Samuel  A.  Green,  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society,  for  access  to  the  baronet's  autograph  diary, 
deposited  in  the  archives  of  that  Society  ;  to  Dr.  John 
F.  Pratt,  of  Chelsea,  for  various  prints  of  people  and 


VI  PREFACE. 

places  connected  with  the  story,  and  especially  for 
the  gift  of  a  portrait-etching  of  the  hero  himself;  to 
Mr.  Samuel  Roads,  Jr.,  the  historian  of  Marblehead, 
for  suggestions  upon  the  early  dialect  of  that  place  ; 
and  last,  but  not  least,  to  the  Rev.  Elias  Nason  for 
a  store  of  facts  and  dates  drawn  from  his  delightful 
monograph  upon  the  provincial  Collector. 

E.  L.  B. 
BOSTON,  November,  1886. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  LITTLE  HARBOR 9 

II.  THE  NEW  COLLECTOR 21 

III.  AGNES 33 

IV.  JOB  REDDEN 49 

V.  A  SUPPER-PARTY 59 

VI.  A  PAIR  OF  STOCKINGS 69 

VII.  PARSON  HOLYOKE  IN  CONSULTATION  ...  79 

VIII.  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE 89 

IX.  THE  WIDOW  RUCK 99 

X.  "FINE  FEATHERS" 110 

XL  LIFE  AT  TILESTON  STREET 118 

XII.  THE  HARPSICHORD 127 

XIII.  A  LESSON  IN  READING 139 

XIV.  AN  OLD  FRIEND  AND  A  DISH  OF  FJGS   .     .  152 
XV.  VANITY  FAIR     .     .     .     . ..161 

XVI.  A  VISITOR 174 

XVII.  THE  PORTRAIT 186 

XVIII.  MIDNIGHT  PLOTTING 196 

XIX.  MARS  AND  CUPID 206 

XX.  RINGING  TRUE 219 

XXI.  RUNNING  TO  COVER  .  229 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.  A  SIDE  ISSUE    .    . 241 

XXIII.  COUNTING  THE  COST 256 

XXIV.  TRIAL  AND  VERDICT 268 

XXV.  A  BARONET 276 

XXVI.  THE  VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR  ....  287 

XXVII.  A  HUNTING-PARTY 302 

XXVIII.  "  THE  BROWN  CLAIM  " 317 

XXIX.  LONDON  TOWN 332 

XXX.  "FACE  TO  FACE" 348 

XXXI.  A  GAY  CAPITAL   .    '. 367 

XXXII.  ALL  SAINTS'  DAY 390 

XXXIII.  COALS  OF  FIRE 399 

XXXIV.  JUSTICE   .  410 


AGNES    SURRIAGE. 

CHAPTER   I. 

LITTLE     HARBOR. 

SAILING  in  bis  little  shallop  along  the  rocky 
coast  of  Cape  Ann,  away  back  in  1631,  the 
agent  of  the  worshipful  Matthew  Cradock  first  noted 
the  possibilities  of  a  certain  bold  promontory  and 
deeply  indented  shore,  and  hastened  to  establish 
himself  there  four  years  at  least  before  the  order  of 
the  Court  of  Assistants  that  "  there  shalbe  a  Plan- 
tacion  at  Marblehead." 

The  result  showed  the  worthy  factor's  wisdom. 
Nature  plainly  meant  it  for  a  fishing  station  ;  she  had 
been  beforehand  with  man,  and  made  ready  the  way 
in  uprearing  the  cliff  and  scooping  out  the  rocky  in 
lets.  Out-thrust  aggressively  into  the  bay,  shoulder 
ing  off  the  waters  of  Salem  Harbor  on  the  left  and 
those  of  its  own  miniature  basin  on  the  right,  the 
rugged  headland  seemed  to  say  to  the  wide  universe, 
"  Make  room  for  me  and  my  coming  brood  !  "  And 
what  with  the  bracing  air,  the  flinty  soil,  and  the 
teeming  waters,  nowhere  in  the  world  could  have 
been  found  a  fitter  abode  for  that  notable  brood. 


10  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

A  witty  and  graphic  little  touch  was  that  of  the 
antiquary  who  compared  the  enclosing  shores  of  the 
tiny  harbor  to  "  a  beckoning  finger  and  a  clenched 
fist."  The  blunt  headland  well  represents  the  vigor 
of  the  doubled  fist,  while  the  long  straggling  strip  of 
land  which  forms  the  eastern  side  has  far  more  the 
expression  of  a  crooked  finger  than  of  a  neck,  —  the 
name  by  which  it  has  long  been  known. 

It  matters  little  about  the  name,  however;  "the 
Neck"  it  is,  and  a  sturdy,  stubborn  neck  it  has 
proved.  Through  unknown  centuries  it  has  with 
stood  the  throttling  clutch  of  the  sea,  which  yet  in 
some  wrathful  moment  would  seem  to  have  despoiled 
it  of  a  goodly  carcanet ;  for  strewn  thickly  about  in 
the  neighboring  water,  like  unstrung  jewels,  lie  a  score 
of  fair  islets,  to  which  the  waggish  natives  have  given 
uncouth  and  irrelevant  names, such  as  "The  Brimbles," 
"The  Cat,"  "Satan,"  "Roaring  Bull,"  "Great  and 
Little  Misery." 

Wee  as  is  the  harbor,  it  is  by  no  means  shallow. 
"Marvalet  est  compose  de  100  ou  200  maisons  pe- 
scheurs  ou  il  peut  entrer  de  gros  vaisseaux,"  wrote 
a  French  spy  fifty  years  after  the  foundation  of  the 
little  town.  And  there  great  vessels  might  enter  to 
this  very  hour,  if  there  were  any  need.  But  now  — 
alas  for  the  cheating  symbols  !  —  the  trade  and  com 
merce  lured  thither  by  the  beckoning  finger  have 
long  since  eluded  the  grasp  of  the  clenched  fist ;  the 
day  of  its  glory  is  gone,  and  nothing  now  seeks  its 
tranquil  haven  save  the  dingy  sail  of  a  coasting 
schooner  or  the  white-winged  fleet  of  the  Eastern 
Yacht  Club. 


LITTLE  HARBOR.  11 

Born  here,  man  had  no  alternative  but  to  take  to 
the  sea.  On  shore  there  was  scarcely  soil  enough  to 
raise  a  potato.  "Where  do  you  bury  your  dead?" 
asked  the  astonished  Whitefield  on  his  first  missionary 
visit  to  the  town.  A  natural  question.  With  such 
scant  soil  to  spare  for  the  quick,  the  dead  must  per 
force  have  had  short  commons.  Meagre  enough  in 
fact  was  the  drapery  vouchsafed  for  their  last  couch 
by  the  thrifty  old-time  sexton  who  tucked  them  in 
among  the  bowlders  three  or  four  deep,  as  the  moul 
dering  of  the  early  slumberers  made  room  for  the  later. 
Yield  him  a  late  pity,  that  honest  old  grave-digger! 
Be  assured  he  met  with  small  sympathy  in  the  flesh. 
Yet  who  shall  say  what  knotty  problems  his  grim 
gardening  presented,  or  into  what  straits  of  despair 
a  chance  epidemic  must  have  driven  him.  Nay,  go 
to-day  to  the  ancient  God's  Acre  whoever  lists,  and 
see  for  yourself  from  the  huddled  headstones  the 
struggle  he  had  to  find  comfortable  beds  for  that  long 
line  of  guests  who  were  endlessly  coming  to  his 
ghostly  hostelry,  to  go  no  more  out  forever. 

As  for  the  town,  it  was  much  after  the  pattern  of 
the  graveyard  in  point  of  order.  Like  barnacles, 
muscles,  algae,  —  an  indigenous  growth, —  the  human 
habitations  sprang  as  it  seemed  out  of  the  bare  rock, 
or  along  the  precipitous  face  of  the  cliff,  in  rank  dis 
obedience  of  Heaven's  first  law.  Had  an  earthquake, 
at  some  forgotten  time,  roughly  shaken  the  promon 
tory,  and  rattled  around  the  black,  squat,  little  build 
ings  like  dice  in  a  box  ?  Or,  haply,  had  a  tidal  wave 
swept  over  the  rocks  and  played  at  harum-scarum  ? 
Never  was  such  a  jumble  of  roofs  and  chimneys; 


12  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

never  such  maddening  streets,  of  which  one  side 
often  climbed  the  cliff  to  perch  a  cabin  on  its  very 
brow,  while  the  other  dived  into  a  gulch  to  drop  a 
zigzag  row  of  crazy  cottages  at  its  base.  Down 
a  hillside  hither  or  yonder,  a  half-dozen  houses 
tumble  higgledy-piggledy  in  an  architectural  snarl. 
Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  upstarting  as  from  an 
ambush,  black  gables  peep  out  with  an  intelligent 
and  rakish  air,  like  jolly  old  tars  rolling  home  in 
tipsy  bliss  from  the  tavern.  Facing  all  points  of 
the  compass,  the  houses  turn  their  backs  or  shoulders 
with  a  perverse  intent  upon  the  pursuing  streets, 
which  with  labyrinthine  twists  wind  in  and  out  as  if 
with  the  futile  aim  of  binding  together  into  a  common 
weal  the  refractory  buildings. 

Thus,  begotten  of  Chance  and  Disorder,  the  town 
had  at  least  one  marked  trait, — individuality.  It 
was  strictly  of  its  own  kind, — a  mad,  rollicking  kind, 
you  may  say  ;  an  odd,  whimsical,  perverse,  stubborn, 
independent  kind,  no  doubt.  Strangers  might  be 
puzzled,  wags  might  make  merry  over  it,  —  small 
matter  !  Failing  to  find  anything  to  admire  in  Mar- 
blehead,  they  nevertheless  could  not  forget  it.  No 
visitor  but  carried  away  a  distinct  and  lasting  im 
pression,  even  if  it  were  no  more  savory  than  that 
of  Captain  Goelet,  who  in  1750  described  it  as  "  a 
dirty,  irregular,  stincking  place."  It  boots  not  to 
inquire  what  the  dainty  New  Yorker  could  have 
expected  of  a  fishing  village  where  six  hundred  men 
and  boys  were  employed  catching  cod,  and  where  the 
wharves  were  covered  with  flakes  on  which  myriads 
of  salted  fish  lay  curing  in  the  sun. 


LITTLE   HARBOR.  13 

Born  and  brought  up  in  it,  the  Marbleheaders 
were  not  troubled  with  the  odor.  Unlike  that  of 
Cologne,  it  was  at  least  a  simple,  honest,  unmixed 
stench.  No  doubt  in  time  they  came  to  regard  that 
as  natural  which  long  experience  had  proved  not 
unwholesome.  For  the  rest,  the  town,  with  all  its 
drawbacks,  —  dirt,  odor,  and  ugliness  combined,  — 
was  what  they  had  made  it :  the  houses  were  like 
shells  that  had  grown  about  them  ;  the  crooked 
streets,  in  defiance  of  proof  or  demonstration,  meas 
ured  the  shortest  practicable  distance  between  any 
two  given  points. 

The  lapse  of  a  century  sufficed  to  transform  the 
bare  rock  of  1631  into  one  of  the  most  thriving  ports 
in  the  province.  Now  down  in  the  little  harbor  were 
to  be  seen  ships  flying  foreign  colors,  —  ships  from 
Holland  or  Portugal,  queer-looking  schooners  from 
Havana  or  St.  Kitt's,  which  rumor  said  were  unloaded 
in  the  night.  Indeed,  there  had  long  been  whispers 
of  a  trade  less  innocent  than  fish,  involving  contuma 
cious  evasion  of  certain  fees  and  charges  imposed  by 
a  number  of  obtuse  and  obstinate  gentlemen  across 
the  water  technically  called  the  Government. 

Long  ago  vague  rumors  had  reached  'the  Lords  of 
Trade  that  Marblehead  was  a  smuggling  port  for 
Boston.  Nor  had  it  been  forgotten  that  in  days 
gone  by  Quelch  the  pirate  was  taken  here,  with 
seven  of  his  crew,  who,  it  was  darkly  whispered, 
had  many  friends  and  relatives  among  the  hardy 
fishers  of  the  Head. 

At  home,  the  case  was  not  much  better;  these 
fishers  did  not  bear  a  specially  good  repute  among 


14  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

their  Puritan  neighbors  in  Boston,  Lynn,  and  Salem. 
One  reverend  chronicler  speaks  of  them  as  "  a  rude, 
swearing,  fighting,  drunken  crew,"  and  a  later  his 
torian  of  the  cloth  gives  them  a  character  no  bet 
ter.  It  is  much  to  be  feared  that  some  of  this 
is  true  ;  they  were  rough  diamonds,  no  doubt,  with 
little  in  their  lives  or  surroundings  to  make  them 
otherwise.  Profanity  is  the  acknowledged  vernac 
ular  of  the  sea ;  and  where  good  spirits  in  plenty, 
free  of  all  duty,  were  at  hand,  temperance  would 
have  been  an  unnatural  virtue. 

But  for  all  this,  those  proud  pharisaical  Bostoneers 
disdained  not  to  accept  their  services  at  a  pinch. 
"When  they  wanted  material  for  their  navy,  bold 
pilots,  hardy  crews  for  their  snows  and  frigates, 
where  did  they  find  such  stuff  as  in  stanch  old 
Marblehead  ? 

Old  Marblehead  —  older  now  by  nearly  a  century 
and  a  half — still  wears  in  the  main  the  self-same  as 
pect.  A  new  town,  to  be  sure,  —  a  town  of  factories 
and  shoe-shops,  —  has  sprung  up  alongside  the  old, 
as  beside  an  ancient  dame  a  bustling,  antic  grand 
daughter,  who  decks  herself  in  modern  trim,  practises 
latter-day  graces,  and  echoes  the  tumult  of  the  outer 
world,  —  who,  in  fine,  is  inoculated  with  the  feverish 
unrest,  the  irreverence  and  agnosticism  of  another 
age. 

Yonder  the  while  sits  the  grandam  on  her  rock 
by  the  sea,  crooning  over  the  past  amid  her  rotting 
cod-flakes,  the  deserted  ramparts  of  her  old  fort,  and 
the  moss-grown  gravestones  of  her  forgotten  worthies. 
The  briny  flood  has  proved  a  conserving  power. 


LITTLE  HARBOR.  15 

Here  has  been  no  change  but  that  of  disintegration, 
—  a  change  slow-paced,  solemn,  and  poetical.  The 
self-same  streets  still  writhe  and  twist  about,  like  the 
avenging  sea-serpent  of  the  Grecian  myth ;  the  self 
same  houses,  too,  —  here  and  there  disfigured  by  mod 
ern  paint  and  patches,  —  still  cling  to  their  rocky 
foundations,  awaiting  the  slow  but  inevitable  ap 
proach  of  the  great  Juggernaut  of  Trade  which  has 
already  sounded  their  doom. 

For  obvious  reasons  the  earlier  settlers  clustered 
about  a  small  inlet  at  the  north  end  of  the  peninsula 
called  "Little  Harbor,"  which  for  a  long  time  was 
the  centre  of  life  and  affairs.  Perched  thus  upon  the 
end  of  a  rock  and  surrounded  by  water,  they  were 
peculiarly  exposed  to  hostile  attack  from  the  sea. 
Harbor  fortifications,  indeed,  everywhere  throughout 
the  province  were  in  a  sadly  neglected  state.  But  a 
change  was  coming.  The  espousal  of  the  cause  of 
Maria  Theresa  by  the  new  Carteret  ministry  precipi 
tated  a  war  with  France.  Now  at  last  the  province 
took  alarm  ;  and  what  with  the  martial  energy  of  the 
new  governor,  and  the  daily  expectation  of  a  French 
descent  upon  the  coast,  the  people  were  awakened  to 
the  necessity  of  taking  some  measures  for  the  protec 
tion  of  their  seaports.  Thus  it  happened  that  among 
other  points  to  be  fortified,  orders  went  out  for  the 
building  of  a  fort  at  Marblehead. 

On  the  western  slope  of  the  hill  upon  which  early 
in  the  spring  of  1742  this  fort  was  in  process  of 
building,  stood  a  little,  low-browed,  unpainted  cottage, 
quite  apart  from  its  neighbors.  Lobster-pots,  fishing- 


16  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

creels,  refuse  buckets,  and  broken  oars  scattered  about- 
the  open  door  bespoke  the  occupation  of  the  owner, 
who,  as  if  to  complete  the  picture,  chanced  to  be  sit 
ting,  one  bright  afternoon  memorable  to  this  narra 
tive,  on  a  low  bench  to  the  left  of  the  door  busily 
engaged  in  mending  his  fishing  tackle.  If  he  had 
been  a  whit  less  brawny,  hirsute,  and  sunburnt,  the 
exquisite  effect  of  entire  harmony  with  his  surround 
ings  would  have  been  wanting.  If  his  homespun 
trousers,  rough  shirt,  and  battered  hat  had  been  a 
shade  less  greasy  and  weatherworn,  they  could  not 
have  had  so  exactly  the  value  of  a  physical  outgrowth, 
like  the  bark  to  a  tree  or  the  lichen  to  a  rock. 

Outspread  before  him  was  a  busy  and  picturesque 
scene.  It  was  high  tide  in  the  little  cove  ;  several 
shallops  lay  already  at  their  moorings  quietly  un 
loading  their  fish,  while  two  or  three  heavily  laden 
ketches  were  tacking  up  before  the  brisk  off-shore 
breeze  to  make  the  anchorage.  In  the  immediate  fore 
ground  the  slope  from  the  door  down  to  the  water 
side  was  covered  with  rows  of  fish-flakes,  on  which 
were  spread  out  the  results  of  the  last  trip  to  "  the 
Banks."  Beyond,  the  little  beach  was  swarming 
with  the  life  of  the  village.  It  was  the  busiest  hour 
of  the  day.  The  men  were  at  work  receiving  and 
disposing  of  the  incoming  haul,  the  women  chatting 
among  the  flakes,  piling  up  the  half- cured  fish  to  be 
covered  for  the  night,  while  children  romped  with 
screams  and  laughter  about  the  narrow  sands.  Across 
the  cove,  half  way  up  the  opposite  hill,  stuck  like  a 
limpet  on  the  rock,  was  the  quaint  little  Fountain 
Inn  with  its  flourishing  orchard  and  its  scanty  strip 


LITTLE  HARBOR.  17 

of  greensward  sloping  downward  toward  the  cliff; 
while  high  up  above  all,  on  the  very  brow  of  the  hill, 
stood  the  old  graveyard  with  its  fringe  of  rude  head 
stones  sharply  outlined  against  the  yellow  evening 
sky. 

The  fisherman,  glancing  up  now  and  then  from 
his  task,  regarded  the  scene  with  the  look  of  one 
long  familiar  with  its  every  detail.  From  his  ab 
sorbed  air  and  motionless  lips,  one  would  not  have 
suspected  that  he  was  engaged  in  conversation ;  but 
in  fact  he  was  from  time  to  time  grunting  an  in- 
articulated  assent  or  dissent,  as  the  case  required,  to 
some  female  loquacity  from  within.  A  twice-repeated 
question,  however,  having  failed  of  answer,  the  wo 
man  at  length  came  to  the  door.  No  fitter  helpmeet 
for  the  man  could  have  been  imagined.  Her  weather- 
beaten  skin  bore  the  marks  of  exposure,  and  her 
stalwart  arms,  of  toil  as  severe  as  his  own.  Other 
wise,  nothing  but  the  expression  of  motherliness  in 
her  common  face  and  slouchy  figure  distinguished 
her  from  the  typical  fishwife.  Seating  herself  clum 
sily  in  the  doorway  with  a  long-drawn  sigh  of  relief, 
she  repeated  her  question  :  — 

"  Wher's  the  young  uns,  oi  say?  " 

The  fisherman  simply  pointed  over  his  shoulder, 
without  speaking. 

"  Oi  worrnt  —  oi  worrnt  ye,  the  for-rt ;  ther'll  be 
nothin'  but  th'  for-rt  heerd  o'  now.  D'ye  see  how 
they  stor-rted  at  it  this  mor-rnin'  ?  Ther'  they  wor, 
at  th'  crack  o'  dawn,  an  ar-rmy  o'  shov'lers  'n'  neg- 
gers,  'n'  th'  whole  town  at  the'r  heels.  Say  what  ye 

will,  oi  don'  loike  th'  tho't  o'  it.     It 's  fur  th'  Freuch- 

2 


18  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ers,  the'  say.  What  do  th'  Frenchers  want  o'  us? 
They  'd  never  foind  us,  nuther,  'f  we  kep'  clor-rk  '11' 
moinded  our  own  business  ;  but  clap  a  lot  o'  bloody- 
moinded  dragoons  in  ther'  for-rt,  to  bang  away  at 
ev'ry  sail  passin',  no  motter-r  who  's  hit,  't  11  modden 
th'  Frenchers,  oi  say,  'n'  th'll  foire  back." 

"Loike  eno'." 

"  '  Loike  eno' ! '  'n'  then  what?  The  dragoons  th'll 
be  safe  'n'  sound  behoind  the'r  for-rt ;  but  what 's  to 
hinder-r  a  ball  comin'  down  upon  us  ?  " 

"  Nothin',  't  oi  see." 

"  An'  ther  ain't  nothin',  nuther,  —  'n'  then  what  ? 
D'  ye  know  th'  soize  o'  'em,  them  the'r  cannon-shot  ? 
The  soize  o'  yer  head,  oi  'm  told,  'n'  gretter  too  ; 
they  'd  bring  down  th'  house  over  our  heads,  'n'  kill 
us  all,  beloike." 

"  *  Beloike  ! '  " 

"  What  're  we  stayin'  here  fur,  then  ?  Out  o't  wi' 
ye,  whoile  ther's  toime !  " 

"Wher' to?" 

"What  matters?  Over  yonder,  in  th'  nex'  cove 
beyont  th'  berrin'-groun' !  " 

"  Toime  eno'  t'  run  when  yer  hor-rt." 

"  No,  it 's  not  nuther,  no  toime  't  all  t'  run  when 
yer  hor-rt  — 

"  Ye  '11  git  wor-rnin',  never  fear !  " 

"Yes;  'n'  die  o'  fright  fir-rst,  waitin' 'n'  listenin', 
wi'  yer  her-rt  atween  yer  teeth  !  Oi  don'  loike  it,  oi 
say ;  'n'  oi  'm  free  to  speak  my  moind,  Ed  Surriage." 

She  rose  as  she  concluded,  and  stepping  down  the 
rude  flags,  looked  back  over  the  hill  with  an  anxious 
eye. 


LITTLE  HARBOR.  19 

"A  plague  on  'era  !  Wher'  be  they?  Tom,  Moll, 
oi  say,  Hugh,  come  home  wi'  ye!  " 

"  Don'  bother  ;  Ag  '11  bring  'em  !  " 

"  Ag  '11  bring  no  young  uns  home  to-night ;  she  's 
gone  to  the  tar-rvern." 

"  T'  th'  Funtin  ?     What 's  goiu'  on  ?  " 

"  All  along  o'  this,"  nodding  toward  the  hill ; 
"  foremen  'n'  ungineers  'n'  them  loike,  —  house  full, 
'n'  them  shor-rt-honded.  The  old  negger  cook  's  dead  ; 
Goody  Salkins  can't  budge  wi'  th.'  ague ;  'n'  so  th' 
londlar-rd  he  come  over  fur  Ag." 

"Humph!" 

"  'N'  he  said  'f  she  turns  out  hondy,  he  's  loike  to 
need  her  whoile  thet  ther'  holds  out." 

"  She  's  nothin'  but  a  young  un  yet." 

"  She  's  fifteen  a  month  ago  ;  'n'  it 's  toime  she 
took  her  tur-rn.  She  '11  be  gettin'  her  meat  'n'  drink, 
'n'  a  foive-pun'  note  at  th'  end  o'  th'  year.  She  '11  be 
better  off  ther',  'n'  we  ha'  our  honds  full  wi'  th' 
others,  never  fear.  Here,  now,  comes  Job  Redden, 
lookin'  fur  Ag.  Evenin',  Job  ;  d'  ye  see  my  young 
uns  up  ther"?" 

The  person  addressed  was  a  tall,  stalwart  young 
man,  with  a  grave  and  rather  heavy  face,  who  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  house,  from  the  direction  of 
the  hill. 

"  Not  to  take  note  on,  oi  did  n't,  Goody  Surriage  ; 
oi  wor  lookin'  fur  Ag." 

"  She  's  helpin'  over  yonder." 

"  Th'  Funtin  ?  " 

"Ay;  she's  loike  to  be  ther'  a  whoile  ;  the 're 
shor-rt-honded  these  days." 


20  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

The  young  man  turned  and  looked  towards  the 
little  inn  with  a  hesitating  air. 

"  Ye  '11  get  a  wor-rd  wi'  her  when  the  wor-rk  's 
done  yonder,  'f  ye  loike  to  take  a  tur-rn  that  way." 

"  Oi  moight  take  it  on  the  starboard  tack,  crossin' 
the  sands,"  he  muttered,  moving  awkwardly  away. 

"  'Tis  a  queer  thing,  now,  ain't  it,  't  Ag  cares  not 
a  straw  for  him,  'n'  he  tryin'  to  keep  comp'ny  wi' 
her  in  dead  earnest?"  said  the  good  dame  reflec 
tively,  as  she  watched  the  lumbering  youth  across 
the  sands. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  NEW   COLLECTOR. 

old  "  Bunch  of  Grapes "  tavern  in  Boston 
-1-  was  ablaze  with  light.  From  the  front  win 
dows  it  streamed  across  King's  Street  in  a  broad 
white  ribbon  and  lit  up  with  a  feeble  glare  the  eastern 
gable  of  the  Town  House.  Something  unusual  was 
astir  in  the  old  hostelry.  Guests  were  arriving  in 
chairs  and  chaises ;  and  the  heavy  door  swinging  open 
from  time  to  time  to  admit  them,  showed  in  vivid 
relief  against  the  outer  blackness  the  wistful  faces  of 
a  knot  of  idlers  hanging  about  the  entrance,  straining 
their  ears  to  catch  a  stray  word  from  the  hum  of 
jocund  voices  within,  and  sniffing  with  eager  noses 
the  savory  odors  from  the  kitchen. 

Within,  there  was  an  air  of  bustle  and  preparation. 
"Mine  host,  Joshua  Barker,  instead  of  lolling  about  the 
tap-room,  as  was  his  habit,  to  receive  his  guests,  was 
now  flying  back  and  forth  from  the  kitchen  to  the 
smoke-blackened,  oak-panelled  supper-room,  sharply 
chiding  the  servants  and  giving  careful  attention  to 
every  detail  of  the  coming  feast  with  the  anxious  air 
of  a  man  who  has  a  reputation  to  sustain. 

"See  ye  have  on  the  right  napery,  —  the  dambrod 
pattern,  the  best  Scotch  cloths  ;  and  make  haste  wi' 
ye  !  Look  you  to  the  wines,  Hugh  !  Have  no  lack  ; 


22  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

the  Sack  first,  then  the  Madeira,  —  the  old  brand  out 
of  the  corner  bin,  mind  ye  !  Port  as  much  as  they 
want ;  the  best  French  brandy,  a  half-dozen  bottles. 
And  give  me  due  warning  when  they  're  coming  to 
the  punch ;  I  have  it  brewing.  Ha'  plenty  o'  fresh 
bottles  always  ready,  but  don't  press  the  matter  !  —  a 
set  o'  good  fellows  '11  drink  more  if  they  're  not  urged. 
What 's  the  caster  doing  there,  blockhead  ?  See  that 
the  cruets  are  full.  Straighten  the  platter  yonder, 

Jack  ;  an'  look,  —  look  here  at  the  marks  o'  yer  d d 

greasy  fingers  on  the  glass !  Ye  '11  ruin  my  reputa 
tion,  ye  dirty  sloven.  Here,  you,  Gregory,  run  tell 
the  cook  to  spit  the  grouse  ;  and  bid  him,  too,  to 
keep  the  roast  basted,  and  see  he  boils  not  the  fowls 
to  rags.  Get  on  yer  aprons  now,  ye  sluggards,  V 
hark  ye  ha'  yer  locks  in  order  V  yer  hands  clean ! 
Stay!  Call  ye  the  table  ready,  and  no  anchovy  sauce 
on  the  board,  nor  the  pickled  walnuts  either?  Dick, 
see  you  that  the  clouted  cream  is  cold  for  the  sweet 
meats  !  There  goes  the  hour  now  ;  go,  bid  the  cook 
dish  and  serve,  and  get  ye  to  your  places !  I  '11  an 
nounce  the  supper  myself." 

Hastily  adjusting  his  dress  as  he  loitered  through 
the  narrow  passage-way,  and  exchanging  with  profes 
sional  skill  the  flustered   and   anxious   look   of   the 
kitchen   for   his   practised  publican  smile,  he  flung 
open  the  door  of  the  parlor  with  an  obsequious  bow 
and  a  flourish  of  his  fat  hands,  crying  :  — 
"  Supper  is  on  the  board,  gentlemen  !  " 
And  well  might  honest  Joshua  bow  and  scrape  ; 
for,  gathered  in  his  little  low-studded  fore-room,  seated 
in  the  broad  window-scats,  basking  before  the  crack- 


THE  NEW  COLLECTOR.  23 

ling  fire,  or  scuffling  about  on  the  sanded  floor,  were 
some  of  the  best  folks  in  town, —  a  picturesque  and 
notable  company,  with  very  long  heads  under  their 
snowy  wigs,  and  stout  hearts  under  their  velvet  coats 
and  waistcoats  of  flowered  brocade. 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  conversation  on  the  land 
lord's  announcement,  and  all  presently  filed  out  two 
by  two  in  the  wake  of  the  waddling  host,  who  ushered 
them  forth,  not  to  an  arid  expanse  of  table-cloth  and 
napkins,  but  to  the  veritable  supper  itself,  ready  and 
smoking  on  the  board.  Finding  their  places  after  a 
little  bustle,  the  company  remained  standing  until 
the  master  of  ceremonies  had  handed  to  the  seat  on  his 
right  the  young  stranger  in  whose  honor  the  feast 
was  given.  The  mere  eating  lasted  an  hour  or  more, 
when  at  last  the  cloth  was  removed  and  the  company 
settled  back  for  a  general  recognition  of  each  other 
and  the  purpose  of  their  meeting. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  president,  after  the  formal 
toasts  to  the  King  and  the  Governor  had  been  duly 
honored,  "  I  give  you  the  guest  of  the  evening.  I 
know  you  will  join  me  in  tendering  him  a  hearty  wel 
come  to  Boston,  where  I  hope  he  may  find  in  the 
novelty  of  this  rude  frontier  life  some  compensation 
for  the  gay  and  brilliant  society  he  has  left  behind." 

The  stranger  rose.  He  was  a  young  Englishman 
in  the  bloom  of  youth;  no  'prentice-made  creature  of 
fiction,  either,  but  a  veritable  son  of  Adam,  whom 
History  claims  as  her  own,  and  whom  Art,  as  if  to  keep 
the  finger  of  Romance  quite  out  of  the  pie,  has  handed 
down  to  posterity  in  a  portrait  thus  described  by  a 
sober  historian:  "A  refined  and  noble  cast  of  features, 


24 '•  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

with  a  peculiarly  pensive  and  melancholy  expression. 
The  countenance  and  dress  indicate  a  certain  inde 
finable  sweetness  of  temper  and  delicacy  of  taste." 
History,  however,  says  nothing  about  the  ease  and 
grace  of  manner  with  which  he  now  acknowledged 
Mr.  Cushing's  toast  and  the  accompanying  applause. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  bowing,  "  you  do  me  great 
honor.  I  confess  I  was  not  at  all  prepared  for  the 
elegance  of  the  hospitality  or  the  cordiality  of  the 
greeting  with  which  I  have  been  met.  And  I  trust 
it  is  not  presumption  in  me  to  add,  that  among  the 
smiling  and  friendly  faces  around  me  I  detect  such 
good  material  for  companionship  that  I  am  not  likely 
long  to  miss  that  left  behind.  Gentlemen,  I  have 
the  honor  of  giving  you  the  glory  and  prosperity  of 
Boston  !  " 

This  was  greeted  with  a  roar  of  applause,  and  the 
whole  company  drank  the  toast  standing. 

"'T  is  meet  now,"  continued  the  president,  draw 
ing  a  note  from  his  pocket,  "although  our  gathering 
here  is  simply  to  give  an  informal  welcome  to  Mr. 
Frankland,  that  I  should  express  to  you  the  regrets 
of  his  Excellency  at  not  being  able  to  be  present." 

"His  Excellency  is  most  kind,"  returned  Frank- 
land  after  the  reading  of  the  note  ;  "  and  if  I  may  be 
permitted  to  name  the  next  toast  —  " 

"  Go  on  !  Go  on  !  "  chorused  the  table. 

"  It  will  be  William  Shirley,  the  man  —  not  the 
governor." 

"  'T  is  a  pity,"  said  Mr.  Cradock,  who  sat  near  by, 
"  his  Excellency  should  miss  such  a  tribute  from  his 
rival." 


THE  NEW  COLLECTOR.  25 

Frankland  turned  an  inquiring  look  upon  the 
speaker,  who  added,  smiling  :  — 

"  Oh,  we  have  heard  a  whisper  of  that  matter 
over  here." 

"  May  one  ask  what  matter  is  that  ? "  inquired 
Overing. 

"  How  Divine  Providence  saved  your  province 
from  a  dire  calamity,"  returned  Frankland,  laughing. 

"  It  hath  saved  us  from  so  many,"  said  Mr. 
Quincy,  "that  'tis  blind  guessing — " 

"  Nay,  you  shall  not  tempt  me  to  blab  State 
secrets." 

"  What  is  already  so  far  let  slip  cannot  be  kept 
close,"  urged  Mr.  Wendell ;  "  besides,  we  are  all  safe 
here." 

"  Ay,  let  us  have  it,  sir,"  pleaded  Mr.  Vassall, 
drawing  up  his  chair  to  more  confidential  proximity. 

"  'T  is  nothing,"  began  Frankland,  warmed  to  the 
point  of  incaution  by  the  wine  already  drunk  ;  "  but, 
under  the  rose,  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  for  'tis 
rather  a  good  joke  after  all." 

"  Stay  !  not  over  an  empty  bottle,"  interposed  the 
chairman. 

"  I  see  I  am  not  to  lack  encouragement,"  returned 
the  Englishman,  sipping  his  replenished  glass  ;  "  but, 
touching  this  story  you  are  waiting  for,  I  hardly  know 
how  to  begin.  The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  my 
dear  friends,  you  had  a  narrow  escape  of  having  for 
your  governor  no  less  a  person  than"  —  he  paused 
and  reddened  with  a  sudden  touch  of  diffidence  — 
"your  very  obedient,  humble  servant." 

An  exclamation'of  surprise  ran  around  the  table. 


26  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  As  a  mere  makeshift,  of  course,"  he  hastened  to 
add,  deprecatingly.  "  Pray  do  not  suppose  I  have 
the  vanity  to  flatter  myself  it  was  for  any  fitness ; 
but  you  must  know  the  Government  was  in  a  sad 
quandary.  Such  a  pother  had  been  made  in  ousting 
the  former  incumbent,  Mr.  —  " 

"  Belcher,"  suggested  Vassall. 

"  And  so  many  idle  scandals  had  been  started 
about  his  opposition  to  the  Land  Bank,  and  his  con 
spiracy  with  my  good  friend  Mr.  Commissary  Price, 
and  what  not,  that —  Why,  to  tell  you  the  plain 
truth,  gentlemen,  there  was  rather  a  dearth  of  candi 
dates  for  the  place." 

A  grim  smile  illuminated  for  a  moment  Mr. 
Quincy's  face,  and  he  turned  to  make  an  aside  re 
mark  to  his  neighbor  Wendell,  which  politeness 
perhaps  repressed. 

"  Drolly  enough,"  continued  Mr.  Frankland,  "  it 
chanced  that  Mrs.  Shirley,  who,  as  you  all  know,  is 
a  vastly  clever  woman,  and  with  considerable  family 
influence  too,  was  in  London  just  at  the  moment  to 
secure  for  her  husband  a  certain  position  which  —  " 

"  Is  now  much  more  acceptably  filled,"  blurted 
out  Overing. 

"  Tut,  tut ;  that 's  carrying  politeness  too  far,  and 
smacks  of  treason  besides.  No,  no  :  the  simple 
truth  is,  I  was  first  in  the  field  and  knew  nothing  of 
Madam  Frances's  hunt  until  I  was  committed  as  a 
candidate ;  and  then,  as  I  was  there  in  person,  and 
moreover  had  strong  backing  at  Court,  why,  the  up 
shot  of  it  was,  gentlemen,  you  owe  it  to  me  that  you 
have  so  able  and  excellent  a  governor." 


THE  NEW  COLLECTOR.  27 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  no  doubt  his  Excellency  would 
have  preferred  the  Collectorship,"  said  some  one. 

"  And  for  very  substantial  reasons,"  added  an 
other. 

"  As  well  enough  he  might,  with  his  big  brood 
of  children,"  remarked  Mr.  Hutchinson,  graveljr. 
"  But  to  change  the  subject  for  a  moment ;  pray 
tell  us,  sir,  —  you  who  are  so  fresh  from  the  centre 
of  affairs,  —  what  are  the  prospects  for  the  coming 
session  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  for  the  moment  the  Whigs  are  under. 
'T  was  plain  enough  what  would  happen  when  I  left 
home.  The  change,  as  you  know,  took  place  during 
my  transit  hither.  For  myself,  as  I  was  appointed 
by  the  old  administration,  I  am  under  no  obligation 
to  the  new.  They  are  welcome  to  my  humble  post 
here  as  soon  as  they  choose  to  demand  it.  Meantime 
I  make  bold  to  say,  gentlemen,  that  in  my  opin 
ion  this  compromise  cabinet  will  hardly  survive  its 
organization." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Gushing,  bluntly. 

"  It  has  no  fibre,  no  adhesiveness  ;  't  will  go  to 
pieces  like  a  rope  of  sand  the  moment  the  reason  for 
its  feeble  being  ceases." 

"  And  that  was  opposition  to  Walpole,  I  suppose," 
suggested  Hutchinson,  shrewdly. 

"  Nothing  else  ;  by  that  one  slender  thread  are 
bound  all  the  jarring  factions  of  the  Coalition,  — 
patriots  (so  called),  Jacobites,  and  Tories.  'T  was 
all  well  enough  so  long  as  they  were  of  like  mind  and 
going  the  same  way  ;  but  once  let  them  begin  —  as 
they  soon  must  —  to  scratch  and  claw  each  other,  and 
how  long,  think  you,  will  it  hold  ?  " 


28  AGNES  SUREIAGE. 

"It  has  held  long  enough  already  to  do  irreparable 
mischief,"  said  Mr.  Quincy,  significantly. 

"  You  mean  the  overthrow  of  Sir  Robert  ?  " 

Quincy  simply  nodded.  Frankland  took  the  hint 
directly  ;  the  discussion  was  plainly  ill-timed,  and 
he  had  been  indiscreet.  He  sipped  his  wine  and 
adroitly  restored  the  social  tone  to  the  meeting  by 
a  change  of  subject. 

"  But  a  truce  to  politics,  gentlemen.  There  is  one 
toast  we  have  not  yet  honored,  and  I  take  the  blame 
to  myself." 

"  Fill  up  !  Fill  up  !  "  The  word  flew  around  the 
table  as  the  bottle  passed  from  hand  to  hand. 

"  Now,"  said  the  president,  lifting  his  replenished 
glass,  "  for  your  toast,  Mr.  Frankland." 

"Here,  then,  is  to  the  ladies!  " 

"Hear!    Hear!" 

"The  ladies  of  Boston,  both  young  and  old!  if 
they  prove  but  half  as  amiable  as  their  fathers  and 
brothers,  I  shall  have  found  here  in  the  wilderness 
The  New  Atlantis:' 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  the  chairman,  as  all  responded  to 
the  toast ;  "  and  now  which  of  all  you  tuneful  gen 
tlemen  is  to  favor  us  with  a  song  ?  Come,  Mr. 
Whalley,  you  look  obliging  !  " 

The  young  gentleman  called  upon,  after  due  hem 
ming  and  hawing,  rattled  off  to  a  taking  little  air  the 
following  words :  — 

"  Cease  your  funning; 

Force  or  cunning 
Never  shall  my  heart  trepan. 
All  these  sallies 
Are  but  malice 
To  seduce  my  constant  man. 


THE  NEW  COLLECTOR.  29 

'T  is  most  certain 

By  their  flirting 
Women  oft  have  envy  shown ; 

Pleased  to  ruin 

Others'  wooing, 
Never  happy  in  their  own." 

"  Capital!  "  cried  Frankland,  keeping  time  with  a 
spoon  upon  the  rim  of  his  glass.  "  I  never  thought  to 
have  heard  the  '  Beggar's  Opera '  so  far  from  home." 

"  You  know  it,  then?"  asked  the  singer. 

"  Yes ;  and  knew  its  author  too,  when  he  was  in 
the  flesh.  Lucky  man  !  he  made  fame  and  for 
tune  out  of  the  piece,  and  well  he  deserved  all, 

—  the   most  fascinating,    engaging   creature   in   the 
world.     Old   Dean    Swift,   savage   as   he   is,   doted 
on  him,  and   Pope  too,   who    is  a  bunch  of  venom 
himself.     But  to  my  thinking,  a  song  should  have 
a  chorus  — " 

"  A  chorus !  .AT  chorus !  "  echoed  the  company. 
"  Nay  ;  but,  gentlemen  —  " 

"  Fairly  caught,  Mr.  Frankland,"  laughed  the  presi 
dent  ;  "  there  's  no  escape  for  you  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  '11  try  —  't  will  be  but  a  trial,  mind  ! 

—  a  bit  of  a  ballad  by  Harry  Fielding,  whose  health 
I  give  you  here  and  now  ;  a  man  crammed  with  gen 
ius,  one  of  the  first  wits  of  the  age,  and,  I  am  proud 
to  say,  my  very  good  friend." 

Clearing  his  throat  after  the  toast  had  been  hon 
ored,  the  young  gentleman  in  a  remarkably  tuneful 
voice  favored  the  company  with  the  spirited  old 
ballad:  — 


30  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  The  dusky  night  rides  down  the  sky 

And  ushers  in  the  morn; 
The  hounds  all  join  in  a  glorious  cry, 
The  hounds  all  join  in  a  glorious  cry, 
The  huntsman  winds  his  horn, 
The  huntsman  winds  his  horn." 

The  company  lustily  joined  in  the  chorus  at 
the  end  of  every  stanza,  until  the  very  rafters 
rung. 

"  Sh-h !  Listen !  "  cried  some  one,  holding  up  his 
finger. 

"One — o-n-e  —  o-n-e  o'-cl-o-c-k  ;  a  fair  clear 
night,  and  all  's  wel-1-1-1 ! "  came  echoing  down  the 
silent  street. 

" '  One  ! '  Humph  !  the  night  wears  on,"  said  the 
president.  "  'T  is  time  for  the  punch.  Where  's 
Barker?" 

"Barker  —  Barker !  "  roared  the  whole  table. 

"  Here,  here,  gentlemen  !  " 

"  The  arrack  !  " 

"  All  ready ;  ready  and  waiting,  gentlemen,"  an 
swered  the  watchful  landlord.  "  You  shall  have  it  in 
a  twinkling." 

As  good  as  his  word,  the  worthy  Joshua  di 
rectly  reappeared  with  a  huge  bowl  of  fragrant 
punch,  followed  by  a  servant  with  a  tray  of  fresh 
glasses. 

Hereupon  the  elder  and  more  sedate  part  of  the 
company,  after  due  exchange  of  compliments,  pru 
dently  withdrew,  and  the  younger  and  more  reckless 
gave  themselves  up  to  unrestrained  revelry.  Toasts 


THE  NEW  COLLECTOR.  31 

and  songs  followed  in  unnoted  succession,  until  some 
one  with  stentorian  voice  struck  up  an  old  English 
air,  the  chorus  of  which  so  captivated  the  company 
that  the  singer  was  not  allowed  to  get  beyond  the 
first  stanza :  — 

"  In  smiling  Bacchus'  joys  I  '11  roll, 
Deny  no  pleasure  to  my  soul  ! 
Let  Bacchus'  health  round  briskly  move, 
For  Bacchus  is  a  friend  to  Love! 
And  he  that  will  this  health  deny, 
Down  among  the  dead  men  let  him  lie!  " 

Great  variety  was  given  to  the  rendering  of  the 
chorus;  thus  (pianissimo},  "Down  among  the  dead 
men,  down  among  the  dead  men.  Down  —  down 
(crescendo},  down  —  down  (fortissimo}  among  the 
dead  men  let  him  lie  !  " 

Inspired  by  the  insidious  arrack,  they  roared  out 
this  refrain  again  and  again,  hoarsely,  shrilly,  in  tune 
and  out  of  tune,  but  with  ever  increasing  vigor  as 
they  pounded  the  table  with  their  broken  glasses, 
as  they  rose  and  marched  about  it,  as  they  boozily 
embraced  each  other,  vowing  eternal  esteem  to 
Mr.  Frankland,  welcoming  him  to  Boston,  assuring 
him  he  was  the  best  collector  ever  heard  of  in  his 
tory,  etc. 

And  so  forth  they  went  with  uncertain  steps  into 
the  sober,  sleeping  town,  each  preceded  by  a  servant 
with  a  lantern,  waking  the  shocked  echoes  of  the 
silent  streets  with  untimely  revelry. 

Nay,  three  or  four  of  the  younger  and  more  hos 
pitable  insisted  upon  seeing  their  guest  home  to  his 


32  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

lodgings  across  the  Mill-creek,  making  the  purlieus  of 
North  Square  ring,  as  they  returned,  with  the  baccha 
nalian  strains  of 

"  Down  —  down  —  down  — 
Down  among  the  dead  men  let  him  lie!  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

AGNES. 

NEXT  morning,  as  it  chanced,  Mr.  Commissary 
Price  started  out  on  a  round  of  calls.  They 
were  not  to  be  parochial  calls,  for  his  brows  were 
knitted,  and  his  lips  pregnant  with  a  purely  mundane 
purpose.  Unlucky  in  finding  his  wealthy  parishioner 
Mr.  Peter  Faneuil  "not  at  home,"  and,  his  Excel 
lency  the  Governor  "  engaged  with  some  New  York 
commissioners  on  military  affairs,"  he  paused  a  mo 
ment/coming  down  the  Province  House  steps  and 
consulted  a  little  memorandum  which  he  drew  from 
his  pocket. 

"No  ;  yes  —  why  not?"  he  muttered,  and  button 
ing  his  cassock  snugly  about  him,  proceeded  around 
into  Queen  Street,  and  dropped  in  at  the  Custom 
House. 

The  young  collector,  with  his  fresh  English  com 
plexion  a  little  blanched  from  last  night's  dissipation, 
was  already  seated  at  his  desk  busily  poring  over  a 
rude  map  of  the  provincial  seaboard.  He  greeted  his 
visitor  with  a  heartiness  that  showed  the  two  were 
already  friends. 

"  Good  !  I  'm  glad  to  see  that,"  cried  the  Commis 
sary,  pointing  to  the  map.  "  Studying  the  geography 
of  your  new  home,  I  suppose  ?  " 

3 


34  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Yes.  I  was  looking  up  the  two  or  three  places  I  am 
like  to  have  business  relations  with,"  returned  Frank- 
land,  tossing  down  the  map  and  placing  a  chair. 

"Egad!  I  wish  our  friends  at  home  would  follow 
your  example.  As  it  is,  they  've  a  clearer  notion  of 
purgatory  than  of  the  colonies.  But  how  are  you 
coming  on  in  your  new  berth  here  ?  "  asked  the  Com 
missary,  settling  himself  for  a  talk. 

"  Swimmingly,  thus  far,"  answered  the  Collector, 
proceeding  naturally  enough  with  a  description  of  the 
banquet  given  him  by  the  merchants  the  night  before. 
The  note  of  enthusiasm  in  his  account  evidently 
grated  on  the  elder's  ear. 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  no  doubt,"  he  said  testily.  "  They  're 
well  enough  so  long  as  they  're  suffered  to  go  their  own 
gait ;  but  draw  the  rein  on  them  never  so  little,  and  a 
more  cantankerous  set  was  never  begotten." 

"But,"  protested  the  Collector,  "  I  never  had  hand 
somer  treatment  in  my  life,  I  give  you  my  word." 

"  To  be  sure ;  they  're  on  their  good  behavior  for 
the  nonce.  After  scheming  and  plotting  and  wrang 
ling  for  months,  they've  gained  their  point,  and  got 
poor  Belcher  and  the  old  Collector  ousted.  Now 
you  and  his  Excellency  come  in  —  a  new  administra 
tion  —  as  a  sop  thrown  to  this  snarling  Puritan  Cer 
berus,  and  no  wonder  he  wags  his  tail." 

"Yes,  but 'tis  not  alone  the  official  compliment; 
'tis  the  cordiality  which —  " 

"  Poll,  poh  !  why  should  n't  they  be  cordial  ? 
They  've  drawn  a  prize.  Instead  of  a  vulgar  and 
crabbed  old  martinet,  who  would  have  cracked  the 
official  whip  over  them  as  they  deserve,  they  have 


AGNES.  35 

secured  for  their  Collector  a  young  man  of  rank, 
wealth,  talents,  —  to  say  nothing  of  good  looks,  good 
breeding  —  " 

"  Hold,  hold  !  I  cry  you  mercy  !  " 

"Fudge!  I  wouldn't  condescend  to  bandy  compli 
ments  ;  I  merely  state  the  case.  Hang  'em !  I  say  ; 
they  deserve  no  such  good  luck.  You  're  a  pearl,  my 
dear  sir,  —  however  little  you  suspect  it,  —  cast  before 
swine." 

"  Ah,  well !  I  suppose  you  have  grievances  to  for 
give  ;  but  for  me,  so  long  as  they  receive  me  in  this 
humor  I  cannot  but  show  myself  friendly." 

*'  Oh,  as  friendly  as  you  like  ;  but,"  continued  the 
Commissary,  nodding  his  head  emphatically,  and  tap 
ping  Frankland  on  the  knee,  as  if  to  mark  each  word 
staccato,  "  have  a  care  !  Do  not  expect  this  state  of 
things  to  last.  Run  counter  to  them  once,  and 
you  '11  find  these  same  fair-spoken  merchants  of  Bos 
ton  the  most  sly,  cunning,  treacherous,  cavilling  set 
of  devils  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  Very  well ;  I  '11  wait  for  developments.  Mean 
time,  there  is  the  law,  which  we  must  both  obey.  I  am 
sent  here  as  his  Majesty's  Collector  of  the  Customs, 
and  they  must  know  I  'm  bound  to  do  my  duty." 

Squinting  up  his  cool  eyes,  the  astute  clergyman 
studied  his  young  friend's  face  for  a  moment,  and  then 
broke  into  a  low,  cynical  laugh,  none  the  less  effective 
that  it  was  entirely  forced. 

"  You  'd  better  send  home,  then,  for  a  man-of-war 
and  a  regiment  of  red-coats  as  soon  as  may  be." 

"  So  I  will,  when  I  need  them,"  returned  Frankland, 
rather  dryly, 


36  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Hark  ye,  my  dear  sir,"  persisted  the  Commissary, 
disregarding  the  tone  ;  "  you  come  out  here  to  this 
wild  desert  consigned  to  my  spiritual  care.  I  adopt 
you  as  a  friend.  My  interest  in  you  will  not  suffer 
itself  to  be  narrowed  down  to  the  mere  saving  of 
your  soul.  I  must  look  out  for  your  worldly  wel 
fare.  Let  us  be  frank,  then.  You  say  —  and  forgive 
me  for  thinking  you  really  believe  it  —  that  you're 
sent  hither  to  collect  his  Majesty's  Customs;  I  say — 
and  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about  too — you're 
sent  to  do  nothing  of  the  sort !  " 

"  Hoity-toity!     Upon  my  word,  sir  —  " 

"Tut,  tut!  You  are  never  such  a  babe  in  arms  as 
you  would  have  one  think.  You  have  come  hither 
precisely  as  your  predecessors  did,  —  to  collect  what 
you  can  get,  which,  if  it  be  a  moiety  of  what 's  due, 
you  may  have  my  new  wig  to  stuff  a  footstool." 

"  Why,"  confessed  the  young  official,  unwilling  on 
the  one  hand  to  be  thought  unsophisticated,  and  on 
the  other  fearful  of  being  too  confidential  with  his 
outspoken  visitor,  "I  —  I  have  heard  hints  of  such 
a  state  of  affairs  ;  but  —  " 

'"Hints ' !  't  is  whispering  business  no  longer.  You 
will  see  constant  and  impudent  evasion  of  the  law 
going  on  under  your  very  nose,  which,  if  you  are 
shrewd,  and  wish  to  be  successful  in  your  office, 
you  will  affect  not  to  notice." 

"  Better  make  known  at  once,  then,  that  violations 
of  the  law  will  be  disregarded." 

"  Not  at  all ;  for  where  they  become  too  flagrant 
to  be  winked  at,  you  must  wake  up  and  come  down 
on  'em ;  but  to  the  covert,  systematic,  and  organized 


A  ONES.  87 

thieving  of  these  respectable  meeting-house  saints 
you  must,  I  charge  you,  be  as  blind  as  a  bat.  Mean 
time,  fail  not  to  go  to  their  banquets,  eat  their 
dinners,  drink  their  wines,  and  make  love  to  their 
daughters." 

u  Ah,"  exclaimed  Frankland,  in  a  tone  of  relief  for 
a  promised  change  of  subject,  "  I  seem  not  likely 
to  be  allowed  to  show  my  accomplishments  in  that 
direction." 

"  Never  fear !  Never  fear !  that  will  come  in  time  ; 
but  you,  that  have  been  used  to  the  gay  and  oblig 
ing  beauties  of  the  court  and  metropolis,  will  not 
find  these  prudish  misses  much  to  your  mind.  I 
fancy." 

"  Who  knows?"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  laugh 
ing,  as  his  visitor  rose  to  go.  "  One  may  meet  his 
fate  anywhere." 

"Meantime,"  continued  the  Commissary,  carefully 
fitting  on  his  gloves,  "  here  's  a  final  bit  of  advice  for 
you.  '  If  you  want  at  once  to  satisfy  the  Home  Gov 
ernment  of  your  zeal,  and  make  capital  with  the  wor 
thy  Bostoneers,  let  your  first  work  be  to  break  up 
these  nests  of  pirates  and  smugglers  that  infest  the 
coast.  They're  safe  prey, —  this  vulgar  sort;  they 
have  no  social  standing,  go  to  no  prayer-meetings, 
own  no  pews.  By  the  bye,  speaking  of  pews,"  he 
continued,  as  if  with  a  sudden  suggestion,  "  let  me 
advise  you  to  get  out  of  that  one  of  yours." 

"  Why  so?"  asked  Frankland,  curiously. 

"  Wait  until  the  next  storm  and  you  '11  have  no 
occasion  to  ask.  There  's  a  leak  just  above  you  in 
the  roof  you  may  see  daylight  through." 


38  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Why,  then  1 11  call  upon  the  vestrymen  to  stop 
it." 

" '  Stop  it ' !  My  dear  sir,  where  's  the  use  of  stop 
ping  one  hole  in  a  sieve  ?  It 's  all  of  a  piece,  —  the 
whole  building  ;  'tis  nothing  but  a  shell.  You  should 
be  with  me  in  the  chancel  of  a  rainy  day ;  I  stand  in 
a  perfect  shower." 

"  Why,  then,  do  they  not  pull  down  the  old  church 
and  build  a  new  one  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I've  tired  myself  out  asking  the  vestry 
men.  Egad !  they  take  it  as  a  kind  of  riddle,  a 
pleasantry  on  my  part,  to  be  answered  by  a  quip 
or  a  quirk,  as  Heaven  sends  them  wit.  Meantime 
the  old  trap  needs  but  a  breath  of  encourage 
ment  from  a  northeast  gale  to  tumble  about  their 
ears." 

"  But  there  are  men  of  substance  enough  in  the 
congregation." 

"  Indeed  are  there  !  " 

"Then  why  do  they  not  —  " 

"  '  Why  ? '  Because  they  're  afraid  of  seeming  too 
officious,  mind  you,  in  the  Lord's  business.  I  'm 
tempted  to  tuck  an  extra  clause  into  the  litany, — 
'  From  too  much  reverence,  good  Lord,  deliver  us,'  — 
as  I  now  add  a  tag  to  my  daily  prayer,  that  some  brisk 
young  fellow  will  come  along  with  something  be 
sides  lip-zeal  for  the  Church,  to  shame  these  laggards 
into  moving  in  the  matter.  Look  at  those  stiff-necked 
Puritans !  See  how  they  squander  money  on  their 
uncouth  meeting-houses,  while  the  true  Church  — 
the  real  old  apostolic  established  Church  —  is  repre 
sented  in  this  rich  and  flourishing  town  by  a  rotten 


AGNES.  39 

old  shed  that  would  n't  afford  fit  shelter  for   cattle. 
'Tis  a  crying  scandal  !  " 

"'Tis,  sir;  'tis  indeed!"  cried  Frankland,  warmly. 
"  I  'm  shocked  at  such  apathy.  I  'm  but  a  new 
comer  ;  but  if  you  think  I  could  do  anything  —  " 

"  'Do  anything! '"  cried  the  watchful  Commissary, 
catching  at  the  suggestion.  "  Once  get  a  subscription 
paper  started,  with  a  round  sum  at  the  head,  and  the 
thing  is  done.  I  '11  take  good  care,  never  fear,  that 
the  project  does  not  perish  still-born  ;  they  dare  not 
hold  back  when  once  the  ball 's  set  rolling." 

"  Count  on  me,  then ;  1  '11  move  in  the  matter  at 
once." 

"  And  I  —  trust  me  !  —  will  requite  your  pains. 
You  shall  be  chosen  of  the  board,  and"  —  searching 
his  mind  for  a  more  tempting  inducement  —  "I  '11 
secure  you  the  snuggest  dowry  in  the  province  for  a 
match." 

"  Make  haste,"  said  Frankland,  laughing  and 
shaking  hands,  "  or  I  may  content  myself  with  some 
humbler  prize." 

The  Commissary  went  away  with  relaxed  lip  and 
forehead,  as  well  he  might  after  having  neatly  de 
spatched  a  delicate  business.  The  Collector  mean 
while,  quite  unsuspicious  of  having  been  dexterously 
used  to  further  one  of  his  parson's  pet  projects,  occu 
pied  himself  with  a  suggestion  let  drop  by  the  latter, 
which,  being  confirmatory  of  certain  hints  from  other 
sources,  seemed  worthy  attention. 

Returning  with  renewed  interest  to  the  study  of 
his  map,  he  consulted,  in  connection  with  it,  certain 
official  reports  which  he  drew  from  the  files  in  his 


40  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

office.  As  a  result  of  this  study,  prompted  perhaps 
in  the  first  instance  by  the  Commissary's  suggestion, 
he  set  out,  several  days  afterwards,  upon  a  journey 
along  the  northern  shore  of  the  bay.  Chief  upon  his 
list  of  places  to  be  visited,  as  it  chanced,  was  the 
thriving  little  port  of  Marblehead. 

It  was  towards  sundown  on  a  fine  day  in  June 
that  he  went  riding  into  the  town.  Mounted  on  a 
blooded  horse,  attended  by  a  servant  in"  liver}7",  and 
dressed  after  the  latest  London  fashion,  he  naturally 
created  a  sensation.  Diving  unsuspectingly  into  the 
blind  labyrinth  of  crooked  streets,  and  coming  out, 
after  a  roundabout  course  of  twenty  minutes  or 
more,  at  the  exact  point  of  starting,  he  stopped, 
and  mentally  rehearsed  several  stock  phrases  of 
profanity. 

"  Here,  my  lad,"  he  cried  to  a  ragged  boy  who 
stood  regarding  him  in  goggle-eyed  astonishment 
from  a  neighboring  corner,  "  can  you  tell  me  the 
way  to  the  inn  ?  " 

"  Yeah,  can  oi ;  g'  down  ther'  by  Skipper-r  Fen 
nel's,  'n'  go  off  on  th'  lorboard  tack  till  ye  come  to 
Moll  Pitcher's ;  'n'  ther'  ye  '11  see  't  stret  to  lee 
ward." 

Tossing  the  amazed  urchin  a  shilling,  Frankland 
followed  the  given  directions,  and  soon  drew  up 
in  front  of  a  squat,  unpainted,  wooden  building 
overlooking  the  water.  On  a  swinging  sign  above 
the  door  he  read  in  faded  letters  the  name  of  the 
little  hostelry. 

"  '  The  Fountain  ! '  "  he  exclaimed,  smiling.  "  O 
haunt  of  the  muses,  refuge  of  wits,  and  home  of  the 


AGNES.  41 

convivial  and  immortal  Kit-Kats !  has  your  fame  in 
deed  reached  across  the  broad  Atlantic  and  taken  root 
in  this  out-of-the-way  corner  ?  'T  is  a  good  omen, 
though,"  he  concluded,  throwing  the  rein  to  his  ser 
vant  and  slipping  lightly  to  the  ground.  "  Fate 
must  have  guided  my  steps  to  this  namesake  of  my 
old  London  retreat." 

Turning  by  chance  upon  the  doorstep,  he  uttered 
an  exclamation  at  the  miraculous  beauty  of  the  out 
look.  Just  below  him  nestled  the  tiny  inlet  of  Little 
Harbor,  shut  in  by  the  rocky  spur  on  which  stood 
the  uncompleted  fort.  Beyond  lay  the  larger  harbor 
with  its  "beckoning  finger;"  while,  outlying  all, 
spread  the  peaceful  waters  of  the  bay,  coruscating 
with  the  sunset  splendor  tossed  back  and  forth  from 
sea  to  sky.  Near  and  far,  Nature  had  been  lavish. 
The  shabby  little  inn  was  but  the  foil  in  a  picture. 
Massed  against  it  on  the  right  like  drifted  snow 
banks,  swung  the  top-heavy  branches  of  an  apple- 
orchard,  now  laden  with  June  blossoms.  In  front,  a 
little  greensward  spangled  with  dandelions  stretched 
away  to  the  rocks. 

With  a  sensuous  sigh,  as  if  oppressed  with  such  a 
feast  of  beauty,  Frankland  at  length  turned  and 
entered  the  house.  Inside,  it  was  after  the  common 
pattern  :  a  broad,  low-studded  hall,  with  doors  open 
ing  to  the  right  upon  a  common  tap-room,  and  to  the 
left  upon  a  small  fore-room  roughly  fitted  with  heavy 
oaken  furniture. 

Peeping  into  either  room  without  finding  anybody, 
the  traveller  at  last  called  out  to  a  servant-maid  on 
her  knees  scrubbing  the  stairs  :  — 


42  A GNES  SURRIA  GE. 

"  Tell  me,  my  good  lass,  where  are  the  people  of 
the  house  ?  " 

Turning  and  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  speaker, 
the  girl  rose,  and  gazed  at  him  in  dumb  amazement. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  girl?  Don't  you 
hear  me?"  repeated  the  young  man,  going  nearer. 
"  Where  is  the  landlord,  I  say?  "  he  cried,  facing  her 
for  the  first  time. 

Now,  in  turn,  he  paused,  slowly  exhaling  a  sus 
pended  breath.  The  two  stood  mutely  face  to  face, 
each  a  distinct  revelation  to  the  other.  The  over 
awed  maiden  stared  with  Miranda-like  wonder  at 
this  being  of  another  order,  with  his  white,  jewelled 
hands,  his  rich  dress,  and  —  most  astounding  and 
superhuman  of  all  —  his  air  of  high  breeding  and 
refinement.  Frankland,  on  his  part,  discovered  with 
scarcely  less  amazement  in  the  dirty  and  ill-condi 
tioned  kitchen-wench  one  of  the  most  striking  and 
perfect  types  of  female  beauty  he  had  ever  beheld,  — 
a  figure  just  budding  into  womanhood,  combining  the 
vigor  and  suppleness  of  perfect  health  with  a  subtle 
grace  which  lurked  in  every  muscle  and  sinew,  from 
the  dishevelled  head  to  the  naked  feet  and  ankles, 
all  splashed  as  they  were  with  foul  water  from  the 
slop-bucket ;  a  face  of  historic  beauty,  lighted  up  by 
bright,  full,  black  eyes  instinct  with  passion,  gazing 
forth  with  ingenuous  candor  from  the  tangled  masses 
of  dark  hair  which  overhung  her  low  forehead. 

In  a  softer  tone  the  young  man  repeated  his 
question. 

"  '  The  londlar-rd ' !  "  echoed  the  girl,  in  a  rich  alto  ; 
"  he  's  yonder  in  the  bor-rn." 


AGNES.  43 

"  Call  the  landlady,  then.     She  will  do  as  well." 

"Goody  Salkins ! "  mechanically  answered  the 
girl,  while  her  absorbed  attention  remained  fixed 
on  the  amazing  personage  before  her. 

"  Yes,  anybody." 

"  She  'd  never  heed  ye.  She  could  not  budge,  the 
poor  dame,  wi'  the  ague." 

"  Where  's  the  barmaid,  then,  —  the  boots,  the 
ostler?" 

"  Oi  clean  th'  boots,  what  ther'  be,"  she  said, 
gazing  critically  at  his  immaculate  top-boots  ;  "  'n' 
oi  '11  draw  ye  a  mug  o'  ale,  'f  ye  want." 

"No;  never  mind,  thank  you.  And  so,"  contin 
ued  the  young  man,  with  an  amused  look,  "you  are 
the  landlady,  then,  the  barmaid,  boots,  ostler,  —  in 
fine,  the  whole  force.  And  what  may  your  name  be, 
my  pretty  lass  ?  " 

Recalled  to  self-consciousness  by  this  direct  per 
sonal  remark,  the  girl  dropped  her  eyes  bashfully  as 
she  answered,  — 

"  *  Ag,'  they  call  me." 

"  That 's  for  Agnes  ?  " 

"  Ay  ;  but  't  is  only  the  minister  calls  it  so,"  she 
replied,  sidling  slowly  away  towards  her  abandoned 
slop-bucket. 

"  Well,  Agnes,"  continued  the  capricious  traveller, 
with  the  possible  intent  of  prolonging  the  interview, 
"  I  'm  thinking  I  '11  change  my  mind  about  the  ale. 
You  may  draw  me  a  mug,  after  all,  if  you  will." 

The  call  for  service  at  once  restored  the  embar 
rassed  servant-maid  to  ease.  Dropping  her  scrub 
bing-brush,  she  proceeded  directly  on  her  errand. 


44  AGNES  SURE  I  AGE. 

Frankland,  meanwhile,  improved  the  opportunity  to 
saunter  into  the  little  fore-room  and  seat  himself 
at  the  window.  Agnes,  returning  presently  with 
the  ale,  approached  him  coyly  and  held  out  the 
foaming  mug  at  arm's  length.  He  affected  not  to 
see  it. 

"  Ther'  't  is  for  ye  !  " 

"  Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  taking  it  carelessly  and  tarn- 
ing  back  to  the  window.  "  So  this  is  the  Fountain, 
—  the  best  inn  in  town,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Good  or  bad,  ther's  none  other  !  "  she  answered, 
making  a  movement  towards  the  door. 

"  And  how  long  have  you  been  here,  Agnes  ?  "  he 
went  on,  still  intent  on  the  window. 

"  It's  not  two  months  gone  yet,"  she  replied,  paus 
ing  on  her  heel,  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
study  his  averted  face. 

"  Where  were  you  before  that  ?  " 

"Nowher',  oi  worn't." 

"'Nowhere'?" 

"  Only  home  wi'  my  mother." 

"  And  does  your  mother  live  hereabouts  ?  " 

"  Close  by.  Yonder  ye  may  see  't,  'cross  the 
cove." 

"  '  Across  the  cove  '  ?  "  he  muttered  with  affected 
stupidity.  "  I  do  not  make  it  out." 

"  Why,  roight  ther'  't  is  ;  just  over  the  sands.  See  ?  " 
she  exclaimed,  forgetting  for  the  moment  her  awe  of 
the  grand  stranger,  and  pressing  close  up  beside  him 
in  the  narrow  window-seat  in  her  eagerness  to  point 
out  the  house. 

"  Ah,  yes,  the  little  cottage,  I  see.     And  do  you 


AGNES.  45 

like  living  here  better  than  at  home  ? "  he  asked, 
stealing  a  glance  at  the  intent  face  now  close  to  his 
own. 

"  It 's  willy  nilly  oi  come,  an'  willy  nilly  oi  stay ; 
oi  ha'  no  complaints  to  make." 

Becoming  suddenly  conscious  of  the  penetrating 
blue  eyes  gazing  closely  into  her  own,  and  seeing  her 
own  soiled  and  shabby  garments  in  contact  with  the 
elegant  dress  of  the  stranger,  she  started  up  and 
quickly  retreated  from  the  window. 

"Stay,  my  good  lass,"  he  said  kindly;  "I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

He  paused,  forgetful  of  his  intent,  in  admiration 
of  the  girl's  figure  as  she  stood  there  with  the  ex 
pression  of  a  startled  bird,  the  rich  fringe  of  her 
downcast  lashes  shading  her  sunburnt  cheek,  an  air 
of  arrested  flight  so  vividly  expressed  in  every  limb 
that  if  suddenly  petrified  it  might  well  have  befitted 
a  Diana  of  the  Bath. 

The  spell  was  rudely  broken  by  a  footstep  on  the 
outer  threshold. 

"  Ther's  th'  Londlar-rd  fur  ye !  "  she  cried,  with 
an  air  of  relief;  and  directly  afterwards  a  common- 
looking  man  entered  the  room,  who,  at  sight  of  so 
distinguished  a  guest,  began  straightwa}r  pouring 
forth  profuse  apologies  for  his  neglect.  Agnes  seized 
the  opportunity  to  escape  from  the  room. 

Whatever  the  business  was  that  called  Frankland 
to  Marblehead,  he  kept  his  own  counsel.  Asking  no 
questions  at  the  inn,  he  went  away  alone  directly 
after  supper,  and  did  not  return  until  late  at  night. 
In  vain  Goodman  Salkins  marvelled  as  to  the  nature 


46  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

of  the  errand  which  could  bring  so  unusual  a  visitor 
to  his  humble  house,  in  vain  talked  it  over  with  his 
gossips,  in  vain  cross-examined  the  stranger's  ser 
vant  ;  honest  Sambo  was  as  ignorant  as  himself. 
And  so  the  baffled  landlord  was  fain  to  console  him 
self  with  the  reflection  that  the  mystery,  if  mystery 
there  were}  must  sooner  or  later  come  out,  and  no 
body  in  town  was  likely  to  have  earlier  intelligence 
of  it  than  himself. 

Early  next  morning  Frankland  was  awakened  by 
the  deafening  clamor  of  the  song-birds ;  robins,  blue 
birds,  orioles,  bubbling  bobolinks,  and  whistling 
quails  made  up  the  morning  chorus.  Suddenly  in 
the  midst  of  the  medley  arose  a  fresh,  clear  human 
voice  singing  a  snatch  of  an  old  ballad.  A  connois 
seur  in  music,  Frankland  listened  with  delight.  He 
was  like  a  lapidary  unexpectedly  coming  upon  a  rare 
gem.  Jumping  up,  he  ran  to  the  window.  The 
singer -had  stopped.  Nobody  was  to  be  seen.  Pres 
ently,  down  the  path  leading  from  the  fountain 
whence  the  little  inn  took  its  name,  came  tripping  a 
lithesome  figure.  It  was  Agnes.  Just  as  Frankland 
caught  sight  of  her,  she  stopped  to  chaff  with  a 
passing  gossip,  — a  bumpkin  with  a  pail  of  milk.  He 
could  not  hear  their  words,  but  the  gay,  free  tones 
of  her  voice  came  floating  up  to  the  window  where 
he  stood  peeping  behind  the  curtains.  Presently, 
letting  fly  a  parting  sally  at  the  admiring  youth,  she 
caught  up  the  heavy  wooden  bucket  filled  with  water, 
and  swung  it  round  and  round  her  head  without 
spilling  a  drop.  The  indescribable  grace  of  her 
whirling  figure,  the  early  sunbeams  glinting  in  a 


AGNES.  47 

golden  shower  through  the  trees,  and  the  white  pet 
als  of  the  apple-blossoms  falling  all  about,  formed  a 
picture  which  the  bumpkin,  in  an  unwary  moment, 
strove  to  reproduce. 

Uplifting  his  bucket  of  milk,  he  swung  it  around 
once  or  twice,  loudly  challenging  her  attention.  His 
triumph  was  short-lived.  The  bail  of  the  bucket 
broke  in  mid-air,  and  the  milk  came  streaming  down 
upon  him  in  a  drenching  shower. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Agnes  stopped,  as 
if  to  catch  her  breath,  and  then  burst  forth  into  irre 
pressible  laughter.  Peal  after  peal  it  came  bubbling 
and  gurgling  from  her  throat  like  struggling  water 
from  a  bottle.  Frankland  looked  on  at  first  with 
scarcely  a  smile.  It  was  not  a  subject  to  stir  a  finer 
sense  of  mirth.  But  a  finer  sense  of  mirth  would 
have  been  incapable  of  so  deep-going  a  convulsion, 
in  which  body  and  soul  were  alike  given  over  to 
mirth's  victorious  control.  The  laughter  of  the  girl 
was  catching  and  irresistible.  It  was  the  laugh  of 
one  rarely  moved,  and  then  to  the  depths.  Frank- 
land  astonished  himself  presently  by  laughing  aloud 
out  of  pure  sympathy. 

Meantime  the  rueful  face  of  the  youth  when  he 
realized  his  mishap,  his  angry  grumblings  as  he 
mopped  his  face,  brought  on  fresh  accessions  of  mirth 
in  the  poor  girl,  who  gasped,  and  choked,  and  wiped 
her  streaming  eyes  as  she  leaned  against  a  tree  in 
utter  abandonment. 

A  sharp  summons  from  the  house  put  an  end  to 
the  scene.  Recalled  to  her  neglected  duties,  Agnes 
caught  up  her  bucket  and  stammered  out  some  in- 


48  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

articulate  condolence  to  the  sulky  youth  as  she  hur 
ried  away. 

The  song  and  the  laughter,  or  both  together,  would 
seem  to  have  made  an  unusual  impression  upon  the 
pensive  young  Englishman.  Casting  about,  as  he 
dressed,  for  some  pretext  of  getting  speech  again 
with  the  beautiful  kitchen-wench,  he  bethought  him 
of  sending  clown  his  boots  to  be  cleaned.  As  he 
expected,  she  brought  them  back. 

"  And  who  taught  you  to  sing,  Agnes  ?  " 

"  Nobody  has  lor-rned  me ;  oi  could  always  sing. 
'T  is  gold,  this  ? "  she  concluded,  staring  fixedly  at 
the  coin  in  her  hand. 

"  Yes,  a  guinea." 

"  Oi  'm  to  take  't  to  th'  londlar-rd  ?  " 

"  No  ;  you  are  to  keep  it  yourself!  " 

"  Oi !  "  she  gasped  in  amazement. 

"  Yes  ;  'tis  to  buy  you  some  shoes." 

Glancing  down  at  her  bare  feet  with  a  deep  blush, 
she  straightway  withdrew  them  within  the  protecting 
shadow  of  her  petticoat. 

"  Oi  know  not  what  to  say  to  ye,"  she  faltered. 

"  Say  nothing  at  all,  then." 

"  Shall  ye  ever-r  come  hither-r  again  ?  " 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  me  come  again  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  a  look  of  interest. 

"  Oi  —  oi  —  "     She  stopped  and  blushed. 

"  You  do  not  care." 

"  Thet  oi  do  !  Oi  wish  ye  moight,  wi'  all  my 
her-rt ! "  she  cried,  and  fled  like  a  fawn  down  the 
stairs. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

JOB   KEDDEN". 

N'EXT  Lord's  Day,  as  noontide  approached,  a 
group  of  idle  young  men  gathered  around 
the  porch  of  Parson  Holyoke's  little  meeting-house. 
Nothing  would  have  induced  one  of  them  to  cross 
the  threshold  and  assist  at  the  service  within  ;  for  by 
such  an  act  he  would  have  lost  caste  forever  among 
his  associates.  The  good  parson,  of  course,  was  un 
sparing  in  his  denunciation  of  such  backsliding ;  for 
most  of  these  loungers  had  been  in  younger  days 
members  of  his  congregation,  who  had  graduated 
after  their  first  trip  "  to  the  Banks."  Vain,  however, 
were  his  reproaches,  vain  his  entreaties,  vain  his  ter 
rible  and  realistic  pictures  of  the  consequences  of 
such  contumacy  at  the  judgment-day ;  the  sturdy 
young  fishermen  continued  to  brave  his  wrath  and 
the  elders'  disapproving  glare,  and  limited  their  at 
tendance  to  the  vestibule,  where,  however,  be  it  said, 
they  failed  not  to  appear  as  regularly  as  the  week 
rolled  around. 

The  meeting-house  vestibule  was  naturally  enough 
the  social  exchange  of  the  town,  where  everybody 
stopped  to  have  a  chat  with  his  neighbor,  to  ask 
after  the  sick  and  absent,  to  talk  over  the  crops  and 

4 


50  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

fishing,  the  births  and  deaths,  —  in  fine,  the  comedy 
and  tragedy  of  the  week. 

The  young  girls,  after  the  fashion  of  their  elders, 
gathered  in  a  group  apart,  chattering  of  their  lesser 
interests  in  studied  unconsciousness  of  the  young 
men  loitering  near,  who  each,  however,  after  his  own 
clumsy  and  sheepish  manner,  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  sidled  up  and  joined  the  merry  party.  As 
silently  and  gradually  as  it  had  been  formed,  the  little 
group  began  presently  to  fall  apart  and  melt  away,  as 
if  through  the  operation  of  some  mysterious  chemical 
action  whereby  each  particle  masculine  or  feminine 
had  found  its  affinity. 

"Come,"  said  Job  Redden  to  Agnes  ;  "  we  moight 
better-r  be  walkin'  loike  th'  others." 

"  No,  oi  '11  be  wanted  yonder-r ;  't  is  past  noon." 

"  What  motter-r  !  " 

"  Th'  londlar-rd  '11  be  lookin'  out  fur  me ;  ther  's 
all  them  for-rt  folk  to  dinner,  'n'  oi  've  the  table  to 
spread." 

"  D n  th'  for-rt  folk  !  Come,  ye  've  toime  fur 

a  bit  o'  a  fur-rn  in  the  berryin-grun." 

"  Indeed,  but  oi  ha'  not." 

"  'Cause  ye  will  not,  that 's  a'.  Ye  've  ever  an 
excuse  at  th'  end  o'  yer  tongue.  Speak  out,  'n'  say 
ye  don't  want  'er,  'n'  ha'  done  with  't !  " 

"  Oi  don't  want  'er,  then,  ther'  now  !  "  retorted  the 
girl,  with  a  mischievous  side  way  glance  at  his  face. 

"  Oi  worrnt  ye  're  ready  eno'  fur  gibin'." 

"  Oi  'm  ready  fur  nothin'  o'  th'  sort." 

"  Come,  then,  fur  a  fur-rn  down  to  th'  willow 
yonder  by  Goody  Lattimore's  grave  !  Ye  '11  not  be 


JOB  REDDEN.  51 

wanted  this  half-hour  at  th'  Funtain.  Lontllar-rd 
Salkins  was  feather-rin'  the  chickens  in  the  shed  as 
oi  come  along." 

"  Ye  shall  bear  the  blame  'f  oi  'm  berated,  moind," 
she  said,  yielding  at  length,  with  a  proper  show  of 
reluctance.  "But  —  ugh!  oi  don't  need  holdin'  so 
toight,  mon,  oi  can  stond  up  by  myself." 

"  Ay,  ye  're  so  grond  wi'  yer  new  shoes.  Ye  must 
get  gret  pay  at  th'  tor-rvern." 

"  Oi  should  wait  a  gret  whoile  fur-r  shoes  out  o' 
my  pay  yonder-r." 

"Eh  — yer  say?" 

"A  foive-pun'  note  at  th'  end  o'  th'  year-r  V  not  a 
penny  th'  whoile." 

"  An'  so  th'  old  mon  's  been  raisin'  the  wind?  " 

"  For-rther?     No,  he  's  not,  nuther-r." 

"  Wher'  then  ?  " 

"A  present  they  wor,  'u'  that's  wher'." 

"  Th'  londlar-rd  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,  not  he  it  wor-r  n't ;  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed 
the  girl  with  delight ;  "ye  're  freezin'  now." 

"  Oi  'm  not  loike  to  get  war-rmer  at  puzzlin'." 

"  Well,  then,  —  but  ye  must  promise  never  to.tell." 

"Ay,  ay!" 

"  'T  wor  the  grondest  mon  ever  oi  saw,  wi'  th' 
foinest  clothes,  'n'  silk  stockin's,  'n'  lace  at  his  throat, 
'n'  honds  whoiter  'n  a  lady's,  covered  wi'  rings." 

"  Pf-f-f !  'n'  so  thet  's  the  koind  o'  a  popinjay  ye 
ca'  foine  ?  " 

"  An'  so  he  was ;  a  big  lor-rd  or  somethin'  o'  thet 
sor-rt,  ye  may  be  sure,  for  he  had  a  grond  way  wi'  him, 
'n'  the  most  be-eautiful  face  ye  ever  saw." 


52  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Oh,  oi  worrnt  him ;  'n'  what  was  this  hoigh  'n' 
moighty  lor-rd  doin'  at  th'  Funtin  tor-rvern  ?  " 

"  Why,  thet  's  it ;  nobody  knows,  —  th'  londlar-rd 
no  more  'n  the  rest ;  he  wor  n't  of  the  koind  that  tell 
the'r  business  to  ev'rybody  chonces  to  come  along." 

"  Thet  oi  '11  engage ;  'n'  't  wor  no  honest  business,  ye 
may  be  sure.  But  how  hoppens  this  peacock  to  be 
givin'  shoes  t'  Ag  Surriage  ?  thet 's  what  oi  want  to 
know." 

"  Oi  never-r  said  he  give  shoes." 

«'  Eh!     Ha'  ye  th'  face  to  deny  —  " 

"  No,  no  ;  not  shoes,  but  money  ;  gold,  —  a  broight 
gold  piece.  Oi  cleaned  his  boots — ther'  were  no 
dir-rt  on  'em  more  'n  moine  this  minute  ;  'n'  when  oi 
took  'em  up,  he  —  he  —  spoke  so  koind,  'n'  —  'n'  —  " 

" 'N'  what?"  demanded  Job,  savagely. 

"  'N'  gave  me  this  gold  piece,  'n'  patted  me  under 
the  chin  wi'  his  soft  hond,"  continued  Agnes,  with  a 
bright  blush. 

"He  did,  did  he,"  sneered  Job;  "tur-rn  ye  round 
here,  since  ye  're  so  fond  o't,  'n'  oi  '11  chuck  ye  under 
th'  chin  to  yer  her-rt's  content !  " 

"  Go  away  ther'  now ;  ye  're  hur-rtin'  me !  " 

"  'N'  what  more  did  he  say?" 

"  He  said  oi  had  a  foine  voice,  'n'  't  wor  a  pity  oi'xi 
no  teachin' ;  'n'  then  he  —  he  asked  me  where  wor  my 
shoes." 

"  What  domned  business  was  it  o'  his,  oi  'd  loike  to 
know?" 

" 'N'  when  oi  said  oi  had  none — "continued. 
Agnes,  absorbed  in  her  reminiscence  or  reckless  of 
the  effect  she  was  producing. 


JOB  REDDEN.  53 

"  Wha'  th'  devil's  name  d'  ye  say  that  fur?  " 

"  Wud  ye  ha'  me  tell  him  a  loi?  " 

"  Ay,  wud  oi ;  tell  him  onything ;  the  truth 's  too 
good  fur  that  sor-rt." 

"'N'  so  he  made  me  take  the  gold  piece, 'n'  oi  bought 
the  shoes  'n'  this  bit  o'  ribbon  at  my  neck  besoide ; 
ye  did  n't  look  at  it !  " 

"  Oi  ha'  somethin'  better  to  do,  'n'  so  ha'  you.  But 
ye  're  forgettin'  yer  haste  all  o'  a  sudden !  " 

"  Ay,  but  oi  '11  not  forget  it  soon  again,  oi  worrnt 
ye.  Oi  '11  not  be  in  a  haste  soon  again  to  come  walk- 
in'  wi'  you  in  the  berryin'-gr-run,  Job  Redden." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,  ye'd  be  glad  to  be  rid  o'  me ; 
oi  dare  swear  ye  wud.  But  oi  ha'  somethin'  still  to 
say  to  ye,  Ag." 

"  Why  don't  ye  say  it,  then?  Who  's  hind'rin'  ye  ?  " 

"  'T  is  not  to  be  said  in  a  breath  ;  oi  ha'  no  toime 
now,  nor  you,  nuther.  Oi  moight  come  after  ye  when 
oi  go  to-night  for  bait,  'f  yer  head  worn't  so  full  o' 
yer  foine  popinjay  't  ye  could  n't  listen  to  common 
sense." 

"  Ef  ye  call  blamin'  'n'  abuse  common  sense,  oi  ha' 
hed  eno'  o't  a'ready ;  oi  'm  free  to  say  thet,  Job 
Redden." 

"  Oi  '11  speak  my  moind  wherever  oi  am ;  an  ye 
don't  loike  it,  ye  know  what  ye  can  do." 

"  Thet  oi  do,  'n'  ye  can  go  for  bait  by  yerself,  'n' 
speak  out  yer  moind  to  yer  fish,  since  yer  so  fond  o't ; 
so  ther'  now." 

"  Go  yer  ways  for  a  puffed-up  hussy  !  "  exclaimed 
the  discomfited  Job,  looking  after  the  indignant  girl 
as  without  a  look  or  a  nod  she  turned  off  on  the  wind- 


54  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ing  road  that  led  to  the  tavern  and  left  her  lover  to 
his  own  reflections. 

Notwithstanding  this  quarrel  at  midday,  however, 
Agnes  betrayed  no  surprise  to  see  Job  turn  up  as 
usual  in  the  evening,  as  she  sat  on  the  broad  stone 
step  at  the  kitchen  door  watching  the  sunset  glow 
fade  from  the  eastern  sky. 

"  So  here  ye  be,"  he  began;  "  oi  ha'  been  waitin' 
fur  ye  down  at  the  w'aarf." 

"  What  call  had  ye  to  wait  for  me  ?  " 

"  To  go  fur  th'  bait ;  ye  know  well  enough.  Come, 
are  ye  ready?  " 

"  No,  oi  'm  not  ready,  'n'  oi  've  no  thought  o'  goin', 
nuther." 

"  Come,  budge  now  ;  don't  be  a  dunce.  Oi  ha'  come 
far  ye,  'n'  ye  see  oi  forgive  ye  what  ye  said  to  me  at 
par-rtin'." 

"  Ye  ha'  been  aforehond  wi'  me,  then." 

"  What  ye  dr-rivin'  at  now  ?  " 

"Oi've  a  little  motter  o'  forgivin'  o'my  own  to 
do." 

"  Fudge  !  Ha'  oi  not  come  far  ye  ?  It 's  not  fur  a 
chicken  loike  you  to  begin  storin'  up  grudges." 

"  Oi  'm  toired  o'  bein'  huff'd  'n'  ding'd  about,  'n'  oi 
ha'  told  ye  that  afore." 

"  Make  no  more  wor-rds  about  it ;  oi  'm  sorry  oi 
moddened  ye.  What  more 's  to  be  said?  Come, 
come  now !  " 

"  Th'  londlar-rd  moight  n't  loike  it." 

"  Ther'  he's  yonder  at  th'  bor-rn  then;  go  ask 
him  !  "  concluded  Job,  turning  away  as  if  it  were  all 
settled ;  "  'n'  oi  '11  go  get  th'  oars." 


JOB  REDDEN.  55 

He  was  not  mistaken.  Whether  Agnes  was  not 
seriously  offended  at  her  plain-spoken  admirer,  or 
whether  she  thought  she  had  punished  him  enough 
already,  does  not  appear.  The  fact  only  remains 
that  five  minutes  afterwards  she  came  scrambling 
down  the  rocks  in  front  of  the  tavern,  and,  unde 
terred  by  the  rank  smell,  by  the  dirty  seats  covered 
with  fish-scales,  the  bait-knives  and  offal-buckets, 
seated  herself  in  the  boat  and  took  up  the  tiller, 
while  Job  pushed  off,  and  with  long  vigorous  strokes 
sent  the  boat  speeding  over  the  quiet  water. 

"  Oi  did  n't  tell  ye  th'  baargain  oi  hed,  Ag,"  he 
began  after  a  little.  "  This  boat  —  it 's  moine  ;  oi  ha' 
bought  it,  —  the  foinest  un  in  th'  cove,  'tis." 

"Ay,  'tis  a  foine  un  enough,"  returned  Agues, 
looking  critically  at  the  little  craft. 

"  By  'n'  by,  after  oi  ha'  been  to  th'  Banks  a  haaf- 
score  toimes  more,  we  '11  ha'  mayhap  a  schooner  o' 
our  own  too,  —  yer  'n'  oi." 

"Oi?" 

"  Ay,  when  we  set  up,  —  th'  very  foinest  schooner 
in  the  harbor  Vllbe." 

"  Who  talks  o'  settin'  up?  " 

"  Oi  do." 

"  Oi  '11  mayhap  ha'  a  wor-rd  to  say  to  thet  my 
self." 

"  Ye  '11  ha'  but  one  wor-rd  to  say,  'n'  thet 's  '  Ay '." 

"  Oi  'm  loike  to  wait  till  oi  'm  asked  fir-rst,  'n'  never 
fear  but  oi  '11  speak  my  moind." 

"  Ye  've  been  speakin'  yer  moind  this  twel-month 
past ;  an  ye  had  any  other  moind,  't  was  toime  't  came 
out  long  ago." 


56  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Oi  'm  not  goin'  to  be  told  what  oi  '11  say  or  when 
oi  '11  say  it,  nuther.  Oi  'm  not  loike  to  say  Ay  or  No 
to  a  question  till  oi  'm  asked  it." 

"  Ha'  oi  not  been  coin-tin'  ye  ever  since  oi  wor'  a 
cut-tail?" 

"  An  ye  ha',  what  then  ?  " 

"  Ye  had  no  roight  to  come  wi'  me  an  ye  meant 
not  to  come  wi'  me  fur  good." 

"  'N'  when  did  oi  not  make  trouble  eno'  about 
goin'  with  ye,  'n'  said  '  No,  no,  no,'  till  oi  was  toired 
sayin'  't,  'n'  ye  wud  never  take  no  for  answer,  but 
must  ever  be  dr-roggin'  me  after  ye  loike  a  dog  wi' 
a  string  ?  " 

"  Ye  need  not  ha'  come  an  ye  had  not  wished." 

"  'Need  not '  is  easy  to  say ;  but  wher'  was  my  help 
when  ye  squaled  me  up  loike  a  cat  wud  a  kitten  ?  " 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  their 
arrival  at  the  nets,  where  Job  was  busily  engaged 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more,  during  which  he 
did  not  open  his  lips.  Turning  to  come  home,  how 
ever,  he  delayed  not  to  resume  the  discussion ;  in 
which  both  soon  became  so  warmly  engaged  as  not 
to  perceive  a  dense  fog  which  came  rolling  rapidly 
in  from  the  open  sea,  and  so  entirely  enveloped  them 
as  to  shut  off  all  view  of  the  shore  and  the  sur 
rounding  islands.  A  heavy  ground-swell  meantime 
had  been  driving  the  negligent  oarsman  towards  a 
dangerous  reef. 

"  See  now  wher'  we  ha'  come  to  wi'  yer  talk,  Job 
Redden ! "  cried  Agnes,  waking  suddenly  to  their 
situation.  "  We  '11  be  pixilated  'n'  driven  on  to  th' 
rocks  an  ye  don't  wake  up." 


JOB  REDDEN.  57 

"  Oi  care  not  'f  we  be,  uther ;  ye  ha'  moddened  me 
wi'  yer  folly." 

"  Oi  'm  not  bound  to  talk  as  you  please,  thet  oi 
know." 

"  Yer  head  is  tur-rned  wi'  that  popinjay  thet  come 
to  th'  tavern." 

"  Yer  're  a  fool  yerself,  Job  Redden  !  What  should 
oi  care  fur  him.  He  wor  a  gentleman,  oi  told  ye  afore  ; 
he  's  nothin'  to  me,  'n'  mayhap  oi  '11  never  see  him 
again." 

"  Oh,  ye  '11  not  pull  wool  over-r  my  oies  loike  thet ; 
oi  know  ye  well.  Ye  're  mad  about  the  popinjay. 
Ye  can  think  o'  nothin'  besoide.  Ye  fancy  he  '11  be 
comin'  back  one  o'  these  foine  days  'n'  chuck  ye 
under  the  chin  again,  'n'  give  ye  more  gold  pieces,  'n' 
carry  ye  off  to  make  a  leddy  o'  ye  !  " 

"  Hold  yer  silly  tongue,  mon,  'n'  look  wher'  ye  're 
goin',"  cried  the  girl,  now  deaf  to  his  reproaches  in 
their  imminent  peril ;  "  don't  ye  hear  the  breakers  on 
th'  rocks?  We  're  driftin'  in,  oi  tell  ye  !  " 

"  Will  ye  say  once  for  a',  be  ye  my  sweether-rt  or 
no  ?  "  he  returned,  reckless  of  the  danger. 

"  Row  !  row,  Job  !    We  're  driftin'  in,  oi  say  !  " 

"  Will  ye  give  up  the  popinjay,  'n'  take  up  wi'  me 
fur  good  'n'  for  aye  ?  " 

"  Job  —  Job  Redden,  will  ye  pull  ?  " 

"  Answer ! " 

"  No !  no  !  no  !  I  '11  not  answer  at  any  mon's 
biddin'." 

"  We  '11  just  both  go  to  th'  devil  together,  then," 
cried  the  incensed  young  man,  unshipping  the  oars 
and  throwing  them  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 


58  AGNES  SURRJAGE. 

But  he  reckoned  without  his  host  if  he  hoped  to 
terrify  his  companion.  Familiar  with  the  sea  from 
her  earliest  childhood,  accustomed  to  all  kinds  of 
weather  and  all  sorts  of  craft,  knowing  the  course 
thoroughly,  and  being  only  less  stalwart  and  skilful 
than  Job  himself,  she  seized  the  oars,  righted  the 
boat,  and  after  a  fierce  struggle  of  a  few  minutes  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  it  free  of  the  breakers ;  and  then 
settling  to  her  work  with  long,  clean,  vigorous  strokes, 
she  pulled  the  whole  distance  home,  a  mile  or  more, 
without  a  break  and  without  a  word. 

Job,  sitting  in  the  bow  in  dogged  silence,  watched 
her  stolidly  as  her  comely  arms  swayed  back  and 
forth  with  the  regularity  of  a  machine,  and  she  shook 
the  white  foam  from  her  dark  hair  as  now  and  then 
a  breaker  dashed  over  them. 

Rounding  up  at  length  to  the  little  wharf,  she  rose 
with  her  eyes  glowing  and  her  cheeks  all  crimson 
with  the  exercise,  and  looking  back  at  her  mute  com 
panion  as  she  stepped  ashore,  said  with  a  touch  of 
compassion :  — 

"  Ye  're  crimmy  \vi'  th'  fog,  Job.  Ye  'd  best  get 
some  grog." 

"  Oi  'm  crimmy  wher'  no  grog  '11  ever  wor-rm  me  !  " 
he  said  bitterly  as  he  brushed  past  her  and  strode 
rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    SUPPER-PARTY. 

ONE  morning  Frankland  received  the  following 
letter  from  home,  which  is  of  interest  here  not 
only  for  a  memorable  suggestion  it  unwittingly  fur 
nished  to  the  Collector,  but  for  a  certain  antique  tone 
of  value  to  our  narrative. 

LONDON,  DOWNING  STREET,  1742. 

MY  DEAR  HARRY,  —  Seeing  myself  likely  to  grow  gray 
before  hearing  from  you,  I  so  far  forego  considerations  of 
age  and  dignity  as  to  write  again 

"  D'  antico  amor  senti  la  gran  potenza." 

Ay,  and  a  mighty  power  it  hath  too,  as  this  will  testify. 
But  though  I  begin  to  hate  you  for  such  neglect,  I  forbear 
excommunication  with  bell  and  candle  while  there  is  such 
reasonable  room  for  doubt  whether  you  be  not  ere  this 
slaughtered  by  the  savages  or  eaten  up  by  wild  beasts.  My 
compassion  is  further  moved  by  the  thought  that  pen  and 
ink  may  be  wanting  to  you  there  in  the  forest,  where  yet  in 

your  d d  persistence  you   must  needs  go  ;    but  I  will 

waste  no  more  words  on  that  topic.  Did  I  not  exhaust  the 
language  of  entreaty  to  obstruct  your  departure  ?  No ;  I 
will  talk  of  a  more  rational  subject,  —  to  wit,  myself.  I  will 
confess  (what  you  must  needs  presently  discover)  that  I  am 
working  off  on  you  a  present  fit  of  vapors  induced,  imprimis, 
by  a  three  days'  storm  which  has  kept  me  house-bound  ;  next, 


60  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

by  the  dark  and  lowering  fortunes  of  our  family,  —  Sir  Rob 
ert,  although  made  a  peer,  being  done  for  politically ;  and 
last  of  all,  by  a  vile  rheum  caught  last  Thursday  at  my 
Lady  Townshend's  ball,  where,  however,  I  swear  to  you  I 
found  such  a  blaze  of  beauty  assembled  as  was  never  be 
fore  gathered  in  one  room.  Judge  for  yourself.  Lady 

E— — s,  Lady  C e  F y,  Lady  L y  M s,  Lady 

C a  B 1,  and,  fairer  than  all,  Lady  S a  herself  — 

have  I  said  enough  ?  Five  hundred  invitations,  and  fully 
two  hundred  accepted.  The  ball  broke  up  at  3  o.  c.  for  the 
general  crowd ;  but  a  dozen  mad  wags,  your  old  boon  com 
panions,  held  fast  to  the  fiddlers,  and  kept  up  the  dance  till 
the  sun  peeped  in  through  the  curtains. 

The  town  is  in  a  whirl  of  gayety.  The  opera  in  full 
blast,  but  indifferently  good.-  'Tis  settled  the  Prince  shall 
go  Wednesdays  and  his  Majesty  Saturdays,  that  there  may 
be  no  danger  of  their  meeting.  There 's  nothing  yet  to 
equal  the  Farinelli,  to  my  thinking.  Monticelli  has  a  good 
voice,  but  shows  no  training ;  and  Amorevoli  has  not  yet 
sung.  The  women  are  better,  the  Viscontina  admirable,  — 
a  village  wench,  'tis  said,  whom  a  roving  manager  heard 
singing  by  chance  in  a  barnyard,  and  straightway  rescued 
from  the  dung-heap.  She  sings  like  a  nightingale,  and  has 
a  fortune  in  her  voice. 

You  will  conclude  I  am  horn-mad  about  music  when  I  say 
I  am  to  have  two  of  the  above-named  warblers  to  sing  for 
me  at  home  to-morrow  night.  'Tis  for  my  Lord  Fanny, 
who,  you  must  know,  can  no  longer  go  to  the  opera.  I  may 
safely  whisper  to  you  yonder  at  the  Antipodes,  that  the  old 
beau  has  become  a  monstrous  fright,  the  face  of  a  corpse,  — 
't  is  said  on  account  of  his  epilepsy,  —  his  cheeks  dashed 
with  rouge,  and,  as  old  Marlboro'  swears,  not  a  tooth  in  his 
head.  Old  Marlboro'  is  aere  perennius  —  how  can  a  thing 
be  more  lasting  than  itself  ?  My  old  namesake  Flaccus  had 


A    SUPPER-PARTY.  61 

a  premonition  of  her  when  he  wrote.  No  longer  than  three 
weeks  ago  she  was  seized  with  a  spasm,  and  the  whole  town 
was  agog  with  hopes  she  might  die.  The  doctor  came  in 
haste,  shook  his  head,  and  said  she  must  be  blooded  at  once. 
"  I  '11  not  be  blooded,"  quo'  she ;  "  and  I  '11  live  to  spite 
you  !  "  And  so  faith  she  did. 

To  come  back  again  to  the  Opera,  the  directors  are  a  set 
of  young  men  of  quality  as  unskilled  as  babes.  They  pay 
ridiculous  salaries.  To  the  Muscovita,  for  instance,  eight 
hundred  pounds,  —  an  unheard-of  price  for  a  second  woman. 

But  veniamo  ad  altro.  At  Court,  where  'tis  as  dull  as 
Chancery  in  vacation,  his  Majesty  continues  to  limit  his 
favors  to  the  Walmoden,  whom  he  not  long  since  made 
Countess  of  Yarmouth.  This  will  set  you  wondering  what 
has  become  of  a  certain  other  countess,  —  a  quondam  friend 
of  yours.  Why,  truth  to  tell,  my  Lady  Suffolk,  besides 
being  long  since  past  the  heyday  of  her  charms,  waxed  so 
monstrous  deaf,  —  nay,  never  think  so  vile  a  pun  intended, 
—  that  the  King  at  length  grew  tired  of  bellowing  love  into 
her  venerable  ears,  and  so  transplanted  her  to  a  little  villa 
at  Twickenham,  where  she  is  like  some  day  to  be  a  neighbor 
of  mine,  if  I  ever  carry  out  a  present  vague  purpose  of  buy 
ing  a  certain  snug  little  box  at  Strawberry  Hill.  We  have 
already  exchanged  gossip  over  sundry  dishes  of  tea,  and  she 
has  a  store  of  choice  matter,  having  lived  so  long  at  Court. 
'T  was  at  one  of  these  sittings  she  let  out  the  secret  of  Lady 
Sundon's  mysterious  ascendency  in  the  bedchamber  :  't  was 
she  alone  knew  of  the  queen's  rupture.  "  She  never  took 
money  for  her  influence,"  said  some  one  lately  to  Sir  Rob 
ert.  "No,"  retorted  he;  "but  she  had  £1400  in  jewels 
from  my  Lady  Pomfret  for  the  post  of  Master  of  the 
Horse." 

Domestic  matters  are  in  better  trim.  I  did  not  much 
relish  at  first  seeing  Moll  Skerritt,  who  had  lived  so  long  in 


62  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

left-handed  relations  with  Sir  Robert,  made  Lady  Walpole 
and  elevated  to  my  dead  mother's  place ;  but  her  ladyship, 
I  'm  bound  to  say,  behaves  with  much  decorum  in  her  new 
position.  She  is  so  well  received,  too,  that  there  was  quite 
a  scramble  among  the  ladies  of  the  Court  as  to  who  should 
have  the  honor  of  presenting  her. 

I  have  constant  news  from  Mann  at  Florence.  What 
think  you  is  the  last  he  says  ?  Why,  that  old  Lady  Mary 
threatens  to  return  to  London.  We  are  shaking  in  our 
shoes  at  the  thought  of  having  that  squalid,  tawdry,  bedi 
zened  old  beldam  hobbling  about  among  us  again,  cheating 
at  cards  and  maligning  honest  folk  with  her  foul,  scandalous 
tongue. 

The  prospect  of  a  war  over  the  Austrian  Succession  every 
moment  increases.  What  is  there  left  to  say  ? 

"  Le  donne,  i  cavalier',  1'  arme  gli  amori 
Le  cortesi,  1'  audaci  imprese  io  canto," 

or,  rather,  have  sung  through  I  dare  not  count  how  many 
sides  of  fair  paper ;  mark  you  it  well,  Sir  Ingrate.  You  will 
have  a  heavy  reckoning,  for  I  demand  usury.  See  to  it,  and 
presently,  if  you  would  not  add  another  to  the  number  of 
your  deadly  foes.  And  so  good-night,  child. 
Yours  ever, 

HORACE  WALPOLE. 

Having  finished  the  letter,  Frankland  turned  back 
and  read  over  and  over  again  a  certain  passage  in  it 
which  seemed  to  have  a  peculiar  interest.  He  still 
sat  with  the  open  sheet  in  his  hand  when  a  messenger 
arrived  in  the  livery  of  the  governor,  bearing  a  note 
containing  the  compliments  of  Mrs.  Shirley  and  an 
invitation  to  supper  for  the  same  evening. 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,"  he  muttered,  despatch- 


A    SUPPER-PARTY.  63 

ing  an  affirmative  answer.  "  I  will  consult  Tier 
upon  it." 

Yonder  in  Roxbury  still  stands  what  remains  of 
the  stately  old  mansion  which,  nearly  a  century  and 
a  half  ago,  was  the  abode  of  one  of  the  most  distin 
guished  of  the  royal  governors.  Then  it  stood  remote 
from  the  highway,  with  a  commanding  view  of  the 
sea,  the  distant  town,  and  the  surrounding  country, 
perched  upon  its  granite  foundation  and  approached 
by  an  imposing  flight  of  granite  steps. 

Up  these  steps  Frankland  proceeded  on  the  night 
in  question,  and  having  gained  admission,  was  shown 
through  an  ante-room  opening  to  the  right  from  the 
vestibule  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  mistress 
of  the  house  in  all  the  old-time  grandeur  of  attire  sat 
receiving  her  guests. 

But  more  than  her  luxury  of  surroundings,  more 
even  than  her  aquiline  nose  and  double  chin,  Mrs. 
Shirley's  fine  air  contributed  to  the  imposing  figure 
she  presented  in  stepping  forward  to  meet  her  young 
rival  in  the  race  for  the  collectorship.  Having  al 
ready  on  a  former  occasion  congratulated  him  on  his 
success,  they  met  without  constraint  on  either  side. 

"Mr.  Frankland  —  Madam  Hutchinson,  Mistress 
Vassall,  Mr.  Hutchinson."  She  had  barely  time  to 
present  the  new-comer  before  supper  was  announced. 

The  talk  at  table  was  chiefly  of  town  and  church 
matters. 

"  Bromfield  and  Gushing  are  returned  to  the  Gen 
eral  Court,  I  see,"  said  his  Excellency. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Hutchinson,  "  there  was  little  op 
position  ;  they  are  both  very  popular." 


64  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"What  else  was  done  at  town-meeting?"  asked 
Mrs.  Shirley,  dexterously  cutting  up  a  pair  of  fowls 
while  his  Excellency  carved  the  joint. 

"  Very  little  of  moment ;  it  was  determined  to  lay 
out  a  highway  to  the  fortifications  from  Summer 
Street  to  the  Sconce,  which  can  only  be  done  by 
shaving  off  a  slice  from  Fort  Hill." 

"  And  a  great  improvement,  too,"  said  the  Gov 
ernor  ;  "  'tis  a  roundabout  way  enough  now." 

"  Then,"  continued  Mr.  Hutchinson,  "  there  was 
some  measure  taken  to  prevent  the  impressment  of 
seamen." 

"  Ay,"  his  Excellency  nodded,  "  I  expected  that ; 
those  high-handed  gentlemen  of  the  navy  must  have 
a  care,  or  they  will  bring  a  nest  of  hornets  buzzing 
about  their  ears." 

"  But,"  asked  his  wife,  "  what  are  they  to  do,  since 
they  must  have  men  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I  took  the  liberty  of  suggesting  at  the 
meeting,"  remarked  Mr.  Hutchinson,  calmly  ;  "  but 
you  should  have  heard  how  I  was  berated.  'Men,' 
cried  Mr.  Sam  Adams,  —  '  men,  sir  !  they  've  as  good 
a  right  to  seize  you  on  your  way  to  the  Council 
Chamber.'  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Frankland,  in  comical  amazement, 
"  seize  a  gentleman  and  a  magistrate,  —  poh,poh!" 

"  Who  is  this  Adams  ?  "  asked  Madam. 

"  A  North-End  maltster,"  answered  Hutchinson ; 
"  but  very  much  considered  by  a  certain  sort,  never 
theless." 

"  '  Adams  —  Sam,'  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  the  Gov 
ernor  with  an  air  of  recollection.  "  It  must  have  been 


A    SUPPER-PARTY.  65 

a  chick  of  his,  then,  that  I  encountered  t'  other  day  at 
Commencement.  The  young  cock-sparrow  had  the 
hardihood  to  come  out  under  my  very  nose  and  read 
a  thesis  upon  the  title  :  '  Whether  it  be  Lawful  to 
resist  the  Supreme  Magistrate  if  the  Commonwealth 
cannot  otherwise  be  preserved.' " 

"  Yes,  they  grow  more  and  more  saucy,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Hutchinson.  "  But,  to  come  back  to  the  point ; 
the  fact  remains  that  with  these  common  seamen  one 
ship  is  just  the  same  as  another." 

"  It  will  not  do,"  said  his  Excellency,  with  a  deci 
sive  shake  of  his  head.  "  Right  or  wrong,  the  practice 
will  never  be  submitted  to  here." 

"  But  what  other  business  was  transacted  ?  "  asked 
the  hostess,  taking  a  hint,  from  her  husband's  manner, 
to  change  the  subject. 

"Humph  !  not  much  ;  various  trifling  matters,  —  a 
provision,  for  instance,  requiring  everybody  to  level 
the  snow  which  they  cast  out  of  their  yards  into  the 
streets." 

"  Our  neighborhood  will  rejoice  at  that,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Vassall ;  "  for  last  winter,  all  along  Bishop's 
Alley  and  Pudding  Lane,  which  you  know  is  our 
short  cut  to. the  Town  House,  't  was  quite  like  cross 
ing  the  Alps,  with  the  snow  a  succession  of  mountains 
and  valleys  the  whole  way." 

"Then,"  continued  Hutchinson,  "there  was  talk 
of  setting  up  another  writing-school  at  the  South 
end." 

"  And  sorely  needed  it  is,"  added  his  wife,  "  for 
ours  has  long  been  overcrowded." 

"  I  'm  told  they  have  very  good  schools  here," 
5 


66  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

remarked  Frankland,  "  and  that  all  sorts  and  condi 
tions  are  learning  to  read." 

"  Yes  ;  't  is  our  purpose  to  educate  every  child  above 
the  condition  of  a  servant." 

"  A  dangerous  scheme,"  said  the  Collector,  shaking 
his  head  ;  "  't  will  make  mischief.  See  the  result  in 
the  case  of  What  's-his-name,  —  the  young  cockerel 
who  read  the  paper  over  at  Commencement.  Not 
that  there  are  not  exceptions  ;  which  reminds  me, 
by  the  bye,  of  a  visit  I  made  t'  other  day  to  a  droll 
little  place  down  the  coast, — you  all  know  it,  I 
daresay,  —  Marblehead.  Where,"  he  continued,  as 
everybody  nodded  assent,  "  being  attracted  by  the 
name  of  a  little  inn  called  after  our  famous  tavern 
in  the  Strand  at  home,  I  went  in  and  found  scrub 
bing  the  steps  a  young  fisher-lass  with  a  voice  like  a 
nightingale." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you,  quite  remarkable.  I  heard  her 
afterwards  singing  outside  in  the  garden,  —  a  rare 
voice  with  a  wonderful  register,  I  give  you  my  word, 
but  as  untrained,  of  course,  as  a  bird's." 

"  The  poor  child  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Shirley  ;  "  what  a 
pity  she  cannot  be  educated  !  " 

"  My  own  thought,  madam,"  continued  Frankland, 
encouraged  by  the  heartiness  of  the  tone  ;  "  and, 
oddly,  I  had  this  morning  a  suggestive  letter  from 
Horace  Walpole,  in  which  he  recounts  the  history  of 
the  reigning  London  prima  donna,  —  that  she  was 
picked  up  by  chance  in  some  out-of-the-way  place 
like  this  and  educated,  and  is  now  the  wonder  of  the 
town." 


A    SUPPER-PARTY.  67 

"Not  a  doubt  of  it  -,  'tis  the  common  history  of 
geniuses,  and  why  may  not  your  little  fisher-maid 
be  such  another  ?  There 's  many  a  rose  blooms 
under  the  hedge.  If  you  were  only  sure  of  her 
talent." 

"  I  stake  my  reputation  as  a  connoisseur  on  it." 

"  Then  if  somebody  could  be  found  charitable 
enough  to  undertake  the  expense  of  her  training." 

"  I  would  gladly  do  so  much  as  that  myself." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  "  asked  the  hostess,  ex 
changing  her  half-quizzical  manner  for  one  more 
serious. 

"  Indeed  I  am." 

"  Why,  then  —  "  began  the  lady,  impulsively. 

"  Take  care  !  "  in  a  warning  tone  from  her  hus 
band. 

"  Thank  you,  sir ! "  returned  his  wife,  quickly.  "  I 
was  hesitating  to  make  the  offer ;  but  with  your 
approval  I  will  venture."  Then  turning  to  Frank- 
land,  "  My  husband  says  '  Take  care ! '  and  acting 
upon  such  good  advice,  I  will  charge  myself  with  the 
care  of  the  girl's  health  and  education  if  you  succeed 
in  bringing  her  to  town." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  warrant  you,"  interrupted  the  Gov 
ernor,  laughing.  "  Mrs.  Shirley  has  only  seven  chil 
dren  of  her  own  to  care  for,  which  she  finds  so  small 
a  task  that  she  must  needs  look  abroad  for  something 
to  employ  her  time." 

"  If  my  children  were  permitted  to  engross  my 
attention,"  retorted  his  spouse,  readily,  "  the  reproach 
would  be  just ;  but  my  poor  opinion  is  so  often  de 
manded  on  grave  matters  of  State,  that  by  good  right 


68  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

I  should  be  enrolled  of  the  Council,  and  have  my 
name  added  to  the  Civil  List." 

"  I  cry  you  mercy ! "  exclaimed  his  Excellencj^, 
laughing. 

"  There  is  no  danger  that  my  household  will  suffer; 
and  for  the  rest,  I  hope  I  shall  always  find  a  little 
time  to  bestow  in  charity,  the  rather  that  I  have  so 
little  else  to  give." 

"  Have  done  !  have  done  !  or  you  will  make  me  out 
a  niggard,"  protested  the  Governor. 

"  Having  now,  as  you  see,  disposed  of  all  opposi 
tion,  I  may  venture  to  promise  you  my  aid,  Mr. 
Frankland." 

"  Many  thanks,  my  dear  madam.  Then  it  is  a  bar 
gain.  I  shall  be  going  to  Marblehead  soon  again, 
when  I  will  consult  the  girl's  friends  about  the  pro 
ject,  and  if  the  result  is  favorable  we  will  concert 
measures  how  best  to  carry  it  out." 

On  taking  his  leave  later  in  the  evening  Frankland 
thought  it  prudent  to  add  :  — 

"  I  wish  to  warn  your  ladyship,  anent  this  fisher- 
lass,  that  she  is  a  bare-legged,  dishevelled  little 
hussy." 

"  Never  fear,"  returned  the  latter,  with  a  worldly- 
wise  look;  "my  expectations  are  not  towering." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

A   PAIR   OF   STOCKINGS. 

JOB  REDDEN'S  parting  words,  but  much  more 
his  strange,  gloomy  look,  as  he  turned  away 
from  her  that  foggy  evening  on  the  beach,  haunted 
Agnes  for  days  afterwards.  She  found  herself  in  a 
very  disturbed  and  anxious  state  of  mind.  However 
much  she  resented  Job's  masterful  tone,  however 
unwilling  she  was  to  yield  to  his  claim  of  proprietor 
ship,  she  was  yet  by  no  means  crear  about  her  own 
behavior.  Her  conscience  started  up  in  a  very  dis 
concerting  way  as  Job's  champion.  Pursuing  voices 
sounded  in  her  ears  as  she  came  and  went  about  her 
daily  tasks,  to  the  effect  that  Job  was  justified  in 
his  position,  that  she  had  not  dealt  fairly  by  him, 
that  his  only  fault  —  if  fault  it  could  be  called  —  was 
in  loving  her  too  well,  and  that  in  fine  he  was  now 
sorely  grieved,  and  she  was  in  some  way  to  blame 
for  it. 

For  the  first  time  in  their  life-long  acquaintance 
he  had  failed  to  come  promptly,  after  one  of  their 
little  fallings-out,  and  make  up.  Daily  she  looked  for 
him,  but  looked  in  vain.  Every  evening  from  her  seat 
on  the  old  doorstep  she  cast  wistful  glances  down  upon 
the  little  groups  of  idlers  and  stragglers  on  the  beach, 
and  often  caught  sight  of  his  tall,  vigorous  figure  in 


70  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

the  throng ;  but  he  never  by  any  chance  turned  his 
face  toward  her,  never  cast  a  look  in  the  direction 
of  the  spot  where  she  sat  eager  and  waiting  to  wave 
her  hand  at  the  slightest  sign  of  recognition. 

Her  mind  was  confused,  her  heart  distressed.. 
Slowly  out  of  this  tumult  of  thought  and  emotion 
there  took  form  a  conviction  that  a  crisis  had  come 
in  her  life  ;  that  the  past  was  divided  from  the  pres 
ent  by  an  impassable  gulf ;  that  yesterday  belonged 
to  the  happy  childhood  of  years  ago ;  that  to-day 
she  had  been  by  some  mysterious  force  thrust  forth 
into  the  larger  and  stormful  atmosphere  of  woman 
hood  without  path  to  her  feet  or  guide  to  follow. 

By  turns  in  this  mental  anarchy  came  fits  of  re 
sentment  against  Job.  This  was  all  his  doing.  It 
was  he  who  had  wilfully  brought  about  this  strange, 
painful  state  of  affairs.  Why  had  he  not  been  con 
tent  to  leave  things  as  they  were,  when  both  were 
happy  and  all  was  well  ?  Why,  forsooth,  must  he  be 
everywhere  and  always  so  terribly  in  earnest?  Why 
have  such  a  deadly  meaning  in  everything? 

Thus  one  voice,  to  which  another  answered :  that 
perhaps,  poor  fellow,  he  could  not  help  it;  perhaps 
she  had  made  him  believe  that  she  herself  was  as 
much  in  earnest  as  he ;  and  if  so,  what  wonder  that 
he  was  cruelly  disappointed?  and  there  could  be  no 
doubt  that  he  was  cruelly  disappointed. 

With  this  prevailing  voice  came  back  a  sense  of 
personal  blameworthiness  to  the  unhappy  girl.  How 
could  she  make  amends  ?  Even  if  she  were  not  will 
ing  to  become  Job's  wife,  he  was  at  least  one  of  her 
dearest  friends  ;  he  had  been  for  }rears  her  most  con- 


A   PAIR   OF  STOCKINGS.  71 

stant  companion,  and  her  intercourse  with  him  a 
large  part  of  her  life.  She  would  do  something  to 
show  him  she  was  sorry,  —  make  him  a  little  gift,  a 
token,  something  that  he  could  see  was  the  fruit  of 
her  own  labor,  and  done  expressly  for  him. 

Her  store  of  feminine  accomplishments  was  soon 
told.  She  could  knit.  She  would  knit  him,  then,  a 
pair  of  stockings,  and  her  mother  would  give  her 
plenty  of  good  homespun  yarn.  Job  would  know 
from  the  size  of  the  feet  that  they  must  have  been 
done  specially  for  him.  She  lost  no  time  in  carrying 
out  her  resolution.  Every  evening  as  long  as  the 
light  lasted,  she  sat  with  the  big  ball  of  blue  yarn 
in  her  lap,  and  with  flying  needles  worked  at  her 
task. 

Before  her  accusing  conscience  meantime  the 
thought  arose  that  she  had  never  before  given  Job 
anything  beyond  a  bite  of  her  apple  or  a  handful  of 
chestnuts  from  her  pocket,  while  he  had  bestowed 
upon  her  countless  keepsakes,  which,  as  she  remem 
bered  now  with  a  tardy  pang,  she  had  set  small  store 
by.  It  had  always  seemed  right  and  proper  for  Job 
to  give  her  things.  He  liked  to  do  it,  and  any  re 
luctance  or  hesitation  on  her  part  in  receiving  them 
had  always  aroused  his  instant  wrath  and  been  the 
occasion  of  a  quarrel. 

A  week  sufficed  to  finish  the  stockings.  The  first 
fair  evening  afterwards  she  folded  and  slipped  them 
into  her  pocket,  and  as  soon  as  her  work  was  over 
strolled  down  upon  the  beach.  There,  -as  usual, 
she  found  little  groups  of  fishermen  scattered  about, 
but  Job  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 


72  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Passing  her  own  home,  the  rafters  of  which  were 
ringing  with  the  loud  cry  of  one  of  the  young  ones 
undergoing  maternal  chastisement,  she  kept  on  to  the 
now  completed  fort.  Climbing  the  western  slope,  she 
paused  to  look  about,  but  saw  only  two  or  three  tired 
workmen  just  shouldering  their  heavy  mattocks  to 
go  home.  Walking  along  the  wide  ramparts  to  the 
eastern  side,  she  turned  the  corner,  arid  at  last  beheld 
close  before  her  Job's  familiar  figure  stretched  out 
upon  the  bastion. 

She  went  quietly  and  sat  down  beside  him.  He 
did  not  move,  or  give  any  sign  of  recognition. 

"  Oi  ha*  been  lookin'  fur  ye,  Job,"  she  said,  studying 
his  face. 

With  his  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  upon  the  far-off  sea 
he  made  no  answer. 

"  Oi  thought,  as  ye  ha'  not  come  to  —  to  th'  tor-rvern 
afore,  somethin'  must  be  the  motter-r." 

At  this  he  turned  and  gave  her  a  significant  look. 
In  its  mute  reproach  there  was  mingled  an  unmis 
takable  touch  of  contempt  which  she  instantly  saw 
and  resented. 

"  Now,  then,  ye  need  not  be  lookin'  at  me  loike 
that,  nuther-r.  Oi  know  ye  wor  moddened  at  me, 
but  ye  ha'  been  moddened  afore  ;  ye  're  allers  flashin' 
up  loike  powder-r,  tell  oi  ha'  come  not  to  moind  it 
overmuch ;  but  ye  ha'  allers  been  to  say  ye  wor 
sorry  when  ye  come  to  yer  sense,  'n'  when  ye  did  n't 
come  this  toime  oi  thought  somethin'  must  be  th' 
motter-r." 

Job  moved  uneasily,  but  remained  silent. 

"  If  ye  're  moddened  wi'  me,  Job,  ye  ha'  no  good 


A   PAIR    OF  STOCKINGS.  73 

cause.  Oi  ha'  more  roight  to  be  moddened  wi'  ye. 
Ye  well-nigh  lost  me  my  loife  in  yer  heat,  but  oi  bear 
ye  no  grudge  ;  ye  w or  n't  in  yer  roight  moind." 

Still  Job's  face  relaxed  not.  His  rugged  profile, 
seen  against  the  clear  evening  sky,  was  sharpened 
by  his  stern  humor  almost  to  comeliness. 

"  What 's  th'  motter-r  wi'  ye,  't  ye  can't  speak  ?  " 
exclaimed  Agnes,  impatiently.  "  Oi  ha'  said  oi  bear 
ye  no  grudge,  'n'  if  oi  spoke  onythin'  hor-rd  to  ye 
oi  'm  sorry,  'n'  ther's  no  more  to  be  said." 

"  Go  away  wi'  yer  prattle.  Why  can't  ye  leave 
me  alone?  Ye  care  nothin'  fur-r  me." 

"  Who  said  oi  care  nothin'  fur-r  ye  ?  Oi  'm  not  say- 
in'  whether  oi  do  or  no  ;  butoi'm  not  goin'  to  be 
told  what  oi  'm  to  do,  or  what  oi  'in  to  say,  for  ony- 
body." 

"  Yer  not  th'  old  Ag  ;  yer  head  is  tur-rned  ;  ye  've 
lost  yer  sense." 

"  It 's  ye  ha'  lost  yer  sense,  and  all  yer  senses ! 
When  did  ever  oi  set  up  to  tell  ye  what  ye  must  do, 
willy  nilly?  Oi'm  old  enough  to  know  my  own 
moind,  'n'  oi  '11  not  go  at  onybody's  beck  'n'  nod." 

"Ha'  done  talkin',  then.  'F  ye  know  yer  moind, 
that 's  enough.  Sin'  yer  moind  's  not  my  moind,  oi 
ha'  no  more  to  say." 

"  Keep  yer  grudge,  then,  if  yer  moinded  to.  Oi 
ha'  said  oi  'm  sorry  to  ha'  moddened  ye,  'n'  oi  can  say 
no  more.  'F  ye  '11  not  speak  to  me,  oi  11  not  stay." 

There .  was  a  momentary  trembling  about  Job's 
mouth,  which  was  presently  repressed. 

"  Oi  ha'  brought  ye  a  bit  o'  a  present,"  continued 
Agnes,  rising.  "  It 's  nothin'  to  speak  o',  but  just 


74  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

somethin'  oi  made  mysel',  'n'  ye  may  keep  it  now  to 
moind  ye 't  ye  would  n't  make  up  when  oi  said  oi 
was  sorry;  'n'  oi  shall  never  say  it  again,  Job  Redden, 
'n'  ye  need  n't  expect  it." 

Agnes  laid  her  little  parcel  down  on  tbe  grass,  and 
slowly  walked  away,  turning  back  a  wistful  glance  as 
she  disappeared  from  sight. 

Job  sat  motionless,  with  fixed,  stern  look  fastened 
upon  the  sea,  long  after  she  had  gone.  At  length, 
rousing  from  his  revery,  he  saw  the  little  parcel. 
Slowly  he  unrolled  the  coarse  stockings  and  smoothed 
them  on  his  knee ;  and  as  he  stroked  them  tenderly 
with  his  rough  hand,  a  great  passionate  sob  burst 
from  him,  and  starting  up,  he  hurried  away  in  the 
gathering  dusk. 

Agnes  went  home  dismayed.  The  visit  from  which 
she  had  hoped  so  much  had  proved  futile.  Her  apol 
ogy  and  her  gift  had  been  in  vain.  A  new,  vague 
sense  of  loneliness  stole  upon  her,  —  a  feeling  that 
the  wide  world,  so  crowded  with  fellow-creatures, 
was  little  better  than  a  wilderness,  and  that  her  life, 
which  hitherto  had  been  as  free  and  joyous  as  a  bird's, 
was  growing  dark  and  tragic.  Nevertheless,  however 
much  puzzled  by  Job's  behavior,  she  was  not  yet 
quite  without  hope  that  he  would  relent  and  come  to 
see  her  the  next  evening,  as  of  old. 

Next  day,  however,  word  was  brought  that  a  big 
school  of  mackerel  had  been  driven  into  the  mouth  of 
the  harbor,  and  directly  all  was  excitement  in  the 
little  cove.  Night  and  day  the  fishermen  worked  with 
might  and  main,  taking  advantage  of  their  stroke  of 
luck.  There  was  no  time  for  Job  to  come  visiting, 


A   PAIR   OF  STOCKINGS.  75 

as  Agnes  well  knew;  there  was,  indeed,  scant  time 
to  eat  and  sleep.  Meantime,  an  incident  occurred 
which  diverted  her  thoughts. 

Going  one  day  to  draw  water  from  the  well  which 
was  sunk  where  it  is  to  be  seen  to  this  very  day, 
close  to  the  grass-grown  road  leading  from  the  high 
way  to  the  tavern,  Agnes  loitered  over  her  pleasing 
task,  watching  the  heavy  bucket  knock  against  the 
slippery  stones  as  it  slowly  rose,  and  listening  mean 
while  to  the  musical  tinkling  of  the  falling  drops, 
when  she  was  startled  by  a  voice  close  behind  her, 
saying :  — 

"  Good-day,  fair  Agnes  !  " 

Full  well  she  knew  the  voice,  and  heard  the  words ; 
yet,  turning  with  a  mantling  blush,  she  courtesied 
deeply,  without  daring  to  look  up  or  attempt  a  reply. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  drink  from  your  bucket, 
my  good  girl  ?  "  asked  the  traveller,  with  reassuring 
accent,  as  he  noted  her  embarrassment. 

"  Ay,"  she  replied  quickly,  recalled  to  herself  by 
the  demand  for  service,  "  if  ye  '11  wait  tell  oi  fetch  a 
glass ;  here  's  nothin'  but  the  biggin  to  drink  from." 

"  That  will  do,  that  will  do  ;  let  me  have  the  biggin 
by  all  means." 

"  As  ye  please,"  cried  Agnes,  quickly  bringing  a 
measure  of  the  sparkling  water  to  the  thirsty  traveller 
as  he  sat  upon  his  horse.  Raising  the  clumsy  wooden 
vessel  to  his  lips  and  splashing  the  while  his  elegant 
riding-habit  with  the  falling  drops,  he  drank  a  few 
swallows,  and  carelessly  tossing  away  the  rest,  handed 
back  the  biggin  to  Agnes,  who  stood  covertly  watching 
him. 


76  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  wiping  his  lips  with  a  square 
of  perfumed  lawn,  "  I  had  forgotten  water  was  so  re 
freshing.  I  was  well-nigh  choked  with  that  cursed 
dust ;  't  is  a  long  ride  from  Boston  hither." 

"  Ay,  so  oi  hear-rd  'em  say,  sir-r." 

"  And  do  j'ou  never  come  to  Boston,  Agnes  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  oi  ha'  been  to  Salem,  'n'  it 's  a  gron'  place." 

"  If  you  think  Salem  grand,  you  can  safely  be 
trusted  to  like  Boston,"  said  the  Collector,  smiling. 
"Are  you,  then,  so  fond  of  your  little  town  here 
that  you  do  not  care  to  go  abroad  and  see  the 
world  ?  " 

"  Ay,  oi  'd  loike  gretly  to  see  't,  hut — "  She  paused 
as  if  it  were  idle  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  not  go  ?  " 

"  '  Why '  ?  Because  oi  —  oi  —  'cause  ther's  nothin' 
fur  't,  'n'  everythin'  to  hender." 

"  What 's  to  hinder  ?  " 

"  Front  'n'  foremost,"  answered  Agnes,  forgetting 
her  awe  of  the  stranger  in  her  interest  in  the  talk, 
"oi  ha'  no  call  yonder-r." 

"  You  should  have  a  call,  then  ;  you  ought  to  go 
and  learn  to  sing,  to  have  your  voice  trained ;  you 
have  too  fine  a  voice,  my  lass,  to  waste  in  singing  to 
the  birds.  If  you  studied  hard  you  might  become  a 
great  singer." 

Agnes  looked  up  quickly  with  an  expression  of 
eager  interest. 

"  How  would  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  Oi  dunno,"  she  said,  dropping  her  eyes  before  his 
searching  gaze,  and  making  vague  marks  in  the  sand 
with  her  bare  toe.  "  Th'  minister  says  't  is  oidle  to  be 


A   PAIR    OF  STOCKINGS.  77 

givin'  up  yer  thoughts  to  things  't  cannot  come  to 
pass." 

"  And  he  is  right,  too,"  said  Frankland,  studying  the 
downcast  face  before  him,  in  which  native  mother- 
wit  was  struggling  with  embarrassment ;  "  but  this  is 
not  a  case  of  that  sort ;  here  's  a  matter  can  be  easily 
brought  to  pass.  If  you  are  willing  to  study  and 
learn  you  will  find  plenty  of  friends  to  help  you.  I 
know  a  kind  gentlewoman  in  Boston  this  minute 
who  would  gladly  aid  you,  and  I  —  I  will  help  you 
myself." 

Agnes  raised  her  head  again  and  looked  at  the 
speaker  with  a  puzzled  and  startled  air.  His  look 
was  grave  and  earnest,  yet  his  proposition  was  tre 
mendous  and  incredible. 

"  Ye  must  be  funnin',  sir-r,"  she  almost  gasped. 

"  No  ;  I  am  quite  in  earnest,"  returned  Frankland, 
smiling.  "  What  doubtless  seems  a  great  matter  to 
you  is  but  a  trifle  to  me.  I  am  rich,  and  can  afford  it." 

"  But  —  but,"  urged  Agnes,  bewildered,  "  oi  ha'  no 
toime ;  oi  connot  be  sper-red  ;  oi  must  be  ear-rnin'  my 
bread  'n'  meat." 

"  Silly  girl,  you  can  earn  much  more  after  you  have 
been  taught  than  you  can  ever  do  here  scrubbing 
floors  and  drawing  water." 

"  Be  ye  sure  o'  thet,  sir-r  ?  "  she  asked,  impressed 
with  this  practical  suggestion. 

"  Quite  sure." 

"'Tis  loike  the  wor-rk  o'  witches,"  she  muttered, 
casting  a  suspicious  glance  at  Frankland  as  not 
unlike  the  kind  of  person  who  might  be  expected 
to  vanish.  "  What  '11  mother  say  ?  "  she  continued 


78  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

presently,  her  face  flushed  with  excitement,  her  eyes 
dilated,  and  her  whole  mind  centred  on  the  amazing 
proposal  she  had  just  heard.  "  What  11  mother  say 
now,  oi  wonder-r." 

"  Go  seek  her  out  and  ask,"  said  Frankland,  gath 
ering  up  his  reins.  "  Stay  !  Bring  her  here  to  the  inn 
to  see  me  after  supper  and  we  will  talk  of  it  further ; 
but  first,  my  good  lass,  go  hunt  up  that  loitering 
landlord  of  yours  and  bid  him  attend  me." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PAKSON  HOLYOKE  IN  CONSULTATION. 

DULY  after  supper,  as  Frankland  was  seated  at 
ease  in  the  little  fore-room,  Agnes  came  usher 
ing  in  Goody  Surriage  with, — 

"Here  's  my  mother,  sir-r,  come  to  see  ye ! " 

Dame  Surriage  stood  awkwardly  courtesying  in  the 
doorway  until  encouraged  by  Franklaud's  gracious 
greeting  to  enter. 

"  Ye  do  us  gret  honor,  sir-r,  'n'  ye  wor  very  koind 
in  the  motter-r  o'  the  shoes  f  our  Ag,  'n'  she  ha'  been 
very  choice  o'  them." 

"  Yes,  something  too  choice,"  said  Frankland, 
glancing  at  the  girl's  bare  feet. 

"  Ah,  they  '11  do  her  a  long  toime,  sir-r,  fur  Lor-rd's 
Day  wear-r,  'n'  thet  's  all  she  ha'  need  o'." 

"  Poh,  poh !  put  them  on  and  wear  them  out, 
and  when  they  're  gone  send  her  up  to  me  and  she 
shall  have  some  more  !  'T  is  a  great  pity,  though,  to 
see  a  bright  lass  like  Agnes  running  about  bare 
footed  and  neglected  ;  she  ought  to  be  sent  to 
school." 

"  Ay,  so  she  ought,  sir-r,  ^n'  oi  worrnt  ye  she  'd 
make  a  foine  scholard  too,  wud  our  Ag :  she  ha'  ever 
been  the  forardest  young  un  in  the  town,  'n'  the 
minister  '11  bear  me  out ;  she  can  say  the  psaums 


80  AGNES  SURPJAGE. 

a'most  as  well  as  himself.  Ag,  show  the  gentleman 
how  foine  ye  can  say  the  psaums !  " 

"  Sh— h,  mother ;  don't  ye  be  foolish,  now !  "  pro 
tested  Agnes,  with  a  shamefaced  look. 

"  She  's  ashamed,  the  silly  gawk,  to  show  off  afore 
ye,  sir-r,  but  Mister-r  Holyoke  '11  tell  ye ;  an'  she  ha' 
lor-rned  to  write  her  name  out  fair-r  'n'  lor-rge  loike 
a  clor-rk." 

"  I  can  well  believe  it ;  and  't  is  a  great  pity  she 
should  not  have  a  chance  to  go  on  and  study,  since 
she  learns  so  quickly." 

"  So  it  is,  sir-r ;  so  it  is." 

"  I  have  been  asking  her  how  she  would  like  to  go 
and  live  in  Boston." 

"  Oi  worrnt  her  she'd  loike  it ;  she  wor  ever  eager 
to  see  str-range  places." 

"  But  she  fears  you  would  not  be  willing  to  spare 
her,"  continued  Frankland,  feeling  his  way. 

"  'N'  why  not  ?  Heaven  for-rbid  oi  should  stond 
in  the  way  o'  th'  good  fortune  o'  my  own  choild." 

"  Spoken  like  a  sensible  woman,  dame  ;  now,  then, 
listen  to  what  I-  have  to  suggest.  Your  daughter, 
you  may  not  know,  has  a  remarkable  voice  —  " 

"  Oh,  thet  oi  do,  yer  honor-r,"  interrupted  Goody 
Surriage  with  a  knowing  shake  of  the  head, —  "thet 
oi  do,  'n'  her  fother-r  too,  poor  man !  She  ha'  been 
scr-reamin'  'n'  squallin'  'bout  th'  house  ever  since  she 
wor-r  bor-rn  tell  we  ha'  been  well-nigh  deafened." 

"  Very  good.  T  was  speaking  of  her  singing  the 
other  day  to  Mrs.  Shirley,  one  of  my  friends  in 
Boston  —  " 

"  The  Governor's  leddy  ?  " 


PARSON  HOLYOKE  IN   CONSULTATION.      81 

"Yes;  and  a  very  charitable  gentlewoman  she  is. 
I  told  her  of  the  poor  little  fisher-lass  whom  I  heard 
singing  in  the  orchard  and  who  had  such  a  beautiful 
voice,  and  she  was  deeply  interested,  and  at  once 
offered  to  aid  in  having  her  trained." 

"  Bless  her  good  her-rt  for  't,  too !  " 

"  For  the  small  expense  of  her  living  and  school 
ing,  I  will  gladly  take  that  upon  myself;  while  Mrs. 
Shirley  would  establish  her  in  some  good  comfortable 
lodgings,  and  have  an  eye  to  her  health  and  welfare." 

"  Listen  to  thet,  Ag  !  Do  you  hear  the  gentlemen  ? 
What  ha'  ye  to  say,  choild  ?  " 

Agnes  could  only  courtesy  and  stammer  out  with  a 
red  face :  — 

"  Oi  ha'  lost  my  tongue ;  speak  you  fur-r  me, 
mother-r !  " 

"Tut,  tut!  There  's  no  need  of  speaking  yet.  Wait 
till  something  is  accomplished.  If  now  your  father  — 
you  have  a  father  ?  " 

"  Ay,  Ed,  —  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Goody  Surriage, 
confidently;  "Ae'll  ha'  nothin'  to  say,  so  Ag's  only 
well-fared 'n'  content;  but  the  minister,  —  we  must 
get  the  minister's  moind ;  he  ha'  hed  th'  guidin'  o' 
Ag  since  she  wor-r  a  baby." 

"  And  does  the  good  man  live  hereabouts  ?  "  asked 
Frankland. 

"Not  a  stone's-throw  away,  sir-r,  'f  yer  honor-r 
moind  not  a  bit  of  a  walk." 

"  Oh,  then,  pray  bid  the  worthy  parson  come  wait 
on  me  in  the  morning  if  he  has  any  objections  to 
offer,"  interrupted  Frankland,  ignoring  the  dame's 
suggestion.  "But  stay!"  he  continued,  as  the  two 


82  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

rose  to  withdraw.  "  You  must  not  go  without  a  song  ; 
sing  to  me,  Agnes,  the  ditty  I  heard  t'  other  morning 
in  the  orchard  !  " 

Agnes,  quite  abashed  at  this  unexpected  request, 
did  herself  small  credit ;  but  her  listener  forgot  to 
criticise  minor  defects  in  his  delight  over  the  rich 
vibrating  tones  of  her  marvellous  voice. 

Betimes  the  next  morning,  before  he  had  break 
fasted,  Frankland  was  told  he  had  visitors.  Finish 
ing  dressing  at  his  leisure,  the  young  gentleman 
sauntered  down  to  find  Dame  Surriage  and  her  pas 
tor  waiting  in  the  fore-room.  The  Rev.  Edward 
Holyoke,  whose  solid  qualities  of  mind  and  charac 
ter  afterwards  won  for  him  the  distinguished  position 
of  President  of  Harvard  College,  was  noted  even  then 
among  his  brother  ministers  for  his  singular  union  of 
great  gentleness  of  heart  with  austerity  of  demeanor 
and  an  ever-present  sense  of  his  own  priestly  dignity. 

For  all  his  loftiness  of  character  and  elevation  of 
mind,  however,  he  was  plainly  somewhat  discon 
certed  upon  Frankland's  first  appearance.  The  fine 
person  of  the  young  stranger,  set  off  by  the  richness 
of  his  dress,  his  elegance  of  speech,  and  above  all  his 
easy,  patronizing  manners,  were  all  so  unusual  to  one 
who  all  his  life  had  lived  remote  from  the  gay  circles 
of  rank  and  fashion,  that  it  was  impossible  wholly  to 
resist  their  influence.  Frankland,  on  the  other  hand, 
who  had  been  brought  up  to  regard  with  ridicule  and 
contempt  the  faith,  the  manners,  and  the  very  per 
sons  of  the  Puritans,  felt  neither  awe  nor  reverence 
for  his  visitor's  professional  character,  and  was  pre 
vented  only  by  natural  kindliness  from  betraying  a 


PARSON  HOLYOKE  IN  CONSULTATION.       83 

feeling  which  no  canon  of  good  breeding  required 
him  to  conceal. 

"  Good-morrow,  dame,"  he  said  with  a  pleasant 
nod  of  greeting  to  Goody  Surriage,  who  stood  bobbing 
before  him.  "  And  so  you  have  brought  your  worthy 
minister  to  talk  with  me.  I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
although  you  had  well-nigh  caught  me  in  bed.  Pray 
sit  you  down  and  let  us  be  comfortable  !  I  suppose, 
sir,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  parson,  "  our  good 
friend  here  has  told  you  of  our  little  plan  to  send  her 
daughter  to  school.  I  hope  you  have  come  to  ex 
press  your  approval,"  he  concluded,  coming  straight 
to  the  point  in  the  easiest  way  in  the  world. 

"  Ahem !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Holyoke,  quite  taken 
aback  by  this  abrupt  introduction  of  the  subject, 
"  that  I  know  not.  I  have  come  to  confer  with  you 
upon  a  matter  which  seems,  from  the  little  I  have 
heard,  to  be  of  a  very  extraordinary  nature." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Collector  carelessly,  settling  him 
self  more  comfortably  in  his  chair. 

"'Tis  a  grave  matter,  sending  a  young  woman 
away  from  home  among  strangers.  It  must  needs 
be  a  momentous  change,  moreover,  and  we  would 
be  fully  persuaded  it  is  to  be  a  change  for  the 
better." 

"  Very  naturally,"  remarked  Frankland,  busily  ad 
justing  his  lace  ruffles. 

"It  behooves  us  to  move  with  the  greatest  circum 
spection." 

"  Oh,  without  a  doubt,"  returned  the  young  gen 
tleman  in  the  same  tone  of  indifference,  helping 
himself  the  while  to  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  a  jewelled 


84  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

box  without  extending  the  courtesy  to  his  guests, 
thereby  unconsciously  indicating  his  sense  of  their 
disparity  in  rank. 

"  And  in  the  first  place,"  continued  Mr.  Holyoke, 
who  with  recovered  ease  was  gradually  assuming  his 
usual  authoritative  tone,  "  it  seems  a  step  most  un 
precedented,  and  not  without  grounds  of  suspicion, 
to  intrust  a  girl  of  Agnes's  tender  years  to  the  guid 
ance  of  a  man  so  young.  I  wish  not  to  impugn 
your  intent,  sir  —  " 

"  'T  is  most  considerate  of  you,  truly,"  interrupted 
Frankland,  with  a  lofty  look. 

"  But,"  calmly  pursued  the  minister,  "  I  would  fain 
know  the  motives  which  lead  a  man  of  your  rank  to 
take  such  an  interest  in  our  child's  welfare." 

"  They  are  briefly  told,"  answered  Frankland,  com 
posedly.  "  I  come  by  chance  to  this  out-of-the-way 
place  and  find  a  child  of  good  wit  and  quick  appre 
hension  growing  up  in  ignorance  and  neglect.  I 
chance  to  hear  her  sing.  I  discover  that  she  has  a 
rare  and  beautiful  voice.  It  occurs  to  me  't  would 
be  an  act  of  charity  to  snatch  the  child  out  of  her 
poverty  and  ignorance  and  give  her  a  chance  to  culti 
vate  the  powers  God  has  endowed  her  with." 

"  It  would  seem  a  praiseworthy  intent,"  said  the 
minister,  reflectively,  studying  the  young  stranger  the 
while  with  close  attention.  "  But  have  you  duly  con 
sidered,  sir,  that  this  step  you  propose  may  change 
her  whole  way  of  life  ?  " 

"  And  is  her  present  way  of  life,  then,  so  bloom 
ing  with  promise,  that  a  change  would  be  deemed 
perilous  ?  "  asked  Frankland,  coolly. 


PARSON  HOLYOKE  IN  CONSULTATION.       85 

"  I  approve  not  entirely  her  present  position," 
answered  the  minister  in  a  tone  which  showed  that 
the  satire  had  been  wholly  wasted  upon  him.  "  She 
came  hither  without  my  cognizance  ;  but  she  leads 
here  at  least  an  honest  and  industrious  life." 

"  Hark  ye,  my  friends,"  exclaimed  Frankland,  ris 
ing  impatiently,  whether  irritated  by  the  ungracious 
reception  of  his  munificent  offer  or  by  the  covert 
insinuation  in  the  last  speech,  "  that  we  may  not 
needlessly  prolong  this  discussion,  and  that  I  may  have 
an  opportunity  of  breaking  my  fast  before  noon,  let 
me  say  that  if  the  girl  comes  to  me  she  will  be  under 
the  eye  and  patronage  of  the  first  lady  of  the  prov 
ince,  as  I  have  already  advised  her  mother.  If  you 
be  not  content  with  that  suggestion,  go  you  up 
thither  yourselves  and  make  what  arrangements 
suit  you." 

"  Ay,  ay,  Mister-r  Holyoke,"  interposed  Goody 
Surriage,  taking  alarm  lest  the  matter  should  mis 
carry  ;  "  't  is  the  Gov'nor-r's  leddy  her-rsel,'  as  I  told 

ye." 

"  Or,  if  you  choose  to  reject  my  offer,"  continued 
the  Collector  in  the  same  tone,  "  pray  consult  among 
yourselves  and  let  me  know  your  will." 

"  But  Mrs.  Shirley,  sir,"  persisted  the  minister,  un 
moved  by  the  other's  irritation,  —  "  is  she  held  to  be 
a  Christian  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  ;  she  is  a  member  of  the  Church  of 
England,  if  haply  you  should  consider  that  answers 
the  description." 

"  Why,  in  some  small  sense  all  those  who  acknowl 
edge  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  are  loosely  called 


86  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Christians ;  but  the  sort  you  speak  of  are  mostly 
blinded  with  error  and  walk  in  gloom  which  is  but 
little  removed  from  outer  darkness." 

"  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  inform  you  that  I  grope  in 
a  like  obscurity  myself." 

"  As  I  opined,"  returned  the  minister,  calmly  in 
vulnerable  ;  "  and  for  your  comfort  let  me  explain  that 
I  would  not  be  understood  as  denying  that  there  may 
be  well-meaning  persons  among  them." 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure  ;  why  not  ?  "  chimed  in  Goody 
Surriage,  anxiously  ;  "  oi  ha'  known  a  bor-rn  Papist, 
'n'  she  brought  back  a  pur-rse  she  found  in  th' 
road." 

"  'Tis  a  great  charge  you  lay  upon  yourself,"  pur 
sued  the  minister,  evidently  not  yet  through  with  the 
subject,  "  to  assume  such  a  heavy  expenditure." 

"  In  your  ignorance  of  my  resources  you  must 
needs  let  me  be  the  judge  of  that,"  answered  the 
Collector,  shortly. 

"  True,  I  know  not  the  measure  of  your  wealth ; 
but  I  reflect  that  if  any  mischance  befall  you,  what 
then  is  to  become  of  Agnes  ?  " 

"  She  would  be  in  no  worse  condition  than  she 
is  now, —  dependent  upon  the  labor  of  her  own 
hands." 

"  Ther'  't  is ;  Mister  Holyoke,  what  think  ye  o* 
thet?"  exclaimed  Goody  Surriage,  who  sat  ner 
vously  see-sawing  on  the  edge  of  her  chair,  divdded 
in  feeling  between  habitual  awe  of  her  pastor  and  a 
dread  lest  the  negotiation  fall  through. 

"  Therein,  it  seems,  you  greatly  err,"  pursued  the 
minister,  unheeding  her.  "  Once  surround  the  girl 


PARSON  HOLYOKE  IN  CONSULTATION.       87 

with  luxury  and  accustom  her  to  idleness,  and  she 
will"  speedily  become  unfitted  for  the  menial  toil  to 
which  she  is  now  so  cheerfully  resigned." 

"  So  much  the  better ;  she  would  then  be  fitted 
to  gain  her  bread  in  other  ways  than  by  scullery- 
work." 

Master  Holyoke  did  not  reply,  but  seemed  absorbed 
in  silent  study  of  Frankland's  face. 

"  But,"  continued  the  latter,  advancing  with  the 
evident  intent  of  putting  an  end  to  the  interview,  and 
drawing  at  the  same  time  several  guineas  from  his 
purse,  "  't  is  easy  to  raise  objections  ;  and  since  you 
are  in  the  humor  for  it,  consider  the  matter  among 
yourselves  and  do  as  you  will.  Should  you  conclude 
to  accept  my  offer,  bring  the  girl  to  town  at  your  con 
venience  ;  and  as  the  step  must  needs  be  attended 
with  some  expense,  you  will  find  here  wherewithal 
to  defray  it." 

He  extended  the  money  as  he  spoke  toward  Master 
Holyoke,  but  that  scrupulous  person  made  no  move 
to  receive  it,  saying,  — 

"But  if,  on  the  contrary,  we  should  decide  not  to 
send  her  — " 

"  Then  give  the  money  to  the  poor,"  exclaimed  the 
Collector,  indifferently  ;  "  there  must  needs  be  widows 
and  orphans  in  a  seaport  town  like  this." 

"  Humph  !"  said  the  minister,  reflecting  ;  "I  have 
no  right  to  refuse  what  may  have  been  sent  by  Divine 
Providence;  and  so,  young  gentleman,"  he  continued, 
reluctantly  taking  the  gold  pieces,  "in  whatsoever 
way  we  may,  after  prayerful  consideration,  determine 
to  apply  your  bounty,  we  shall  pray  that  the  divine 


88  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

blessing  may  attend  our  decision  ;  and  for  you  there 
will  remain  the  consciousness  of  well-doing,  which  is 
higher  than  any  earthly  reward." 

The  Collector,  already  bored  by  the  good  clergy 
man's  qualms  and  arguments,  showed  himself  little 
impressed  by  this  concluding  benediction,  but  frankly 
yawning  in  their  faces  as  he  bowed  his  visitors  out, 
hastened  to  his  neglected  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE. 

TT  was  high  noon  on  a  bright  October  day  several 
-*-  weeks  after  his  visit  to  Marblehead,  that  Collector 
Frankland  sat  lolling  over  his  official  desk.  Having 
signed  clearances  for  one  or  two  outgoing  vessels,  lis 
tened  to  the  complaints  of  divers  discontented  mer 
chants,  and  digested  some  late  instructions  from  the 
Home  Government,  he  had  duly  despatched  the  more 
pressing  business  of  the  day,  and  now  picked  up  the 
tiny  sheet  of  the  "  Evening  Post,"  the  previous  day's 
issue,  wherein  his  roving  eye  presently  lighted  upon 
the  following  advertisement,  which  he  proceeded  to 
cut  out :  — 

"A  lusty,  able-bodied  white  servant-man's  time  of  five 
years  to  be  disposed  of.  Inquire  of  the  Printer  and  know 
further." 

.  His  action  with  regard  to  the  advertisement  has  no 
significance  here  save  in  so  far  as  it  would  seem  con 
firmatory  of  current  gossip  in  the  town,  that  the  home- 
loving  and  hospitable  young  Englishman  was  about 
to  set  up  an  establishment  of  his  own. 

Throwing  down  the  newspaper,  and  putting  on  his 
hat  with  the  possible  intent  of  going  around  to  the 
sign  of  the  "  Heart  and  Crown  "  in  Cornhill  and  see 
ing  what  Mr.  T.  Fleet  the  printer  had  to  say  further 


90  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

about  the  advertisement,  he  was  met  at  the  door  by 
a  clerk  who  came  ushering  in  two  droll-looking  fig 
ures, —  Goody  Surriage  and  Agnes  in  their  holiday 
garb. 

"Ah,  my  pretty  Agnes,  is  it  you?  Dame,  I  hope 
I  see  you  well!"  he  exclaimed  with  genuine  cor 
diality.  "So  then  you  have  really  come  at  last.  I 
had  well-nigh  given  you  up." 

"Ay — ugh — we  be  roight  glad  to  foind  ye,"  ex 
claimed  the  dame,  bobbing  breathlessly  before  him. 
"  'T  is  a  puzzlin'  place,  this  town  ;  we  ha'  been  lost  a 
ha-af  scor-re  toimes  fro'  the  wa-ar-rf  hither.  Ay, 
sir-r,  oi  thought  not  to  ha'  been  so  long,  but  Mister-r 
Holyoke  takes  his  own  toime  to  make  up  his  moind ; 
then  ther'  was  all  the  makin'  ready,  'n'  it 's  not  ever-ry 
day  we  could  ha'  the  ketch." 

"  You  came  by  water,  then  ?  " 

"  Thet  did  we,  'n'  my  goodman  's  below  yonder  at 
th'  wa-ar-rf  waitin'  agin  oi  go  back." 

"  And  so,  lassie,"  continued  Frankland,  turning 
with  a  kindly  look  to  Agnes,  "  you  have  come  up  to 
try  your  fortunes  in  Boston  ?  " 

"  Ay,  sir-r ;  but  oi  'm  thinkin'  what  oi  '11  do  when 
oi '11  ha'  nobody  here  belongin'  to  me,"  returned 
Agnes,  with  a  premonitory  touch  of  homesickness. 

"  She  's  loike  a  baby  thet's  never-r  been  weaned," 
explained  Dame  Surriage. 

"  Tut,  tut !  she  '11  be  a  stout-hearted,  sensible  girl ; 
I  '11  answer  for  her,"  said  Frankland,  encouragingly. 

"  But  'f  oi  ha'  nobody  to  speak  to  —  " 

"  You  will  have  me  ;  I  will  look  out  that  you  do 
not  get  down-hearted." 


THE   GOVERNOR'S    WIFE.  91 

Agnes'  eyes  kindled  in  spite  of  her  dejection,  and 
she  looked  up  gratefully  at  this  unexpected  touch  of 
kindness. 

"  You  will  have  no  time  to  get  down-hearted,"  pur 
sued  her  benefactor.  "You  will  have  your  music 
and  your  books  to  occupy  you,  and  Mrs.  Shirley  — 
that  reminds  me ;  you  must  wait  upon  her  without 
delay ;  I  cannot  go  with  you  this  morning.  I  will 
give  you  a  note,"  he  continued,  sitting  down  to  his 
desk  and  rapidly  writing  a  few  words  of  introduction. 
"  But  first,"  he  continued,  rising,  "  you  shall  come 
with  me  and  get  some  dinner,  and  I  will  send  you  out 
afterwards  to  the  Governor's  house.  William,"  he 
cried  to  a  servant,  as  they  were  leaving  the  room, 
"  order  the  coach  to  meet  me  in  an  hour  at  the  '  Ship 
Tavern.'  " 

To  that  famous  old  ordinary  in  Hanover  Street 
accordingly  they  repaired. 

"See,"  cried  Frankland,  pointing  to  a  huge  crack 
running  transversely  down  the  facade,  "  there  are  still 
the  marks  of  the  earthquake." 

"  My  sinful  her-rt ! "  exclaimed  Goody  Surriage, 
gazing,  "  but  't  is  an  awful  thing  !  " 

The  worthy  skipper  of  the  "  Ship,"  as  the  host  was 
jocularly  called,  stared  a  little  at  the  droll-looking 
guests  his  lavish  young  patron  chose  to  entertain  ;  but 
he  failed  not  to  bring  forth  his  best  for  their  use 
and  serve  the  party  with  zealous  attention.  Agnes 
plainly  felt  more  at  home  at  the  inn,  and  looked  about 
with  wonder  and  curiosity  at  all  the  new  features  in 
the  fittings  and  service.  As  for  Goody  Surriage, 
she  was  so  overcome  with  the  honor  of  Frankland's 


92  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

presence  at  the  table  that  she  could  scarcely  eat  a 
mouthful. 

When  they  came  out  from  dinner,  there  stood  the 
Collector's  carriage  already  drawn  up  in  front  of  the 
inn.  And  now  poor  Goody  Surriage's  last  scrap  of 
presence  of  mind  quite  deserted  her  at  the  over 
whelming  thought  of  riding  in  that  stately  equipage 
with  the  coat-of-arms  emblazoned  on  the  panel  and 
a  coachman  in  resplendent  livery  on  the  box.  She 
uttered  some  incoherent  protests,  made  a  vague  and 
futile  attempt  to  get  up  on  the  box  with  the  coach 
man,  until  a  glance  from  the  awful  eye  of  that  func 
tionary  deterred  her. 

As  for  Agnes,  she  took  no  note  of  details,  but  fol 
lowed  after  with  a  dazed  look  and  an  air  as  though 
she  were  moving  through  the  unreal  scenes  of  a 
dream.  Constrained  by  her  stiff,  heavy  shoes  and 
holiday  dress,  she  climbed  clumsily  into  the  coach, 
and  in  rapt  unconsciousness  encountered  the  stare 
of  the  passers-by,  which  her  mother  shrank  into  the 
farthest  corner  to  escape. 

Arriving  after  a  long  drive  at  the  Governor's 
house,  they  mounted  the  granite  steps,  and  pausing 
nervously  to  arrange  their  dress,  at  last  timidly 
sounded  the  ponderous  knocker.  It  required  a 
second  and  indeed  a  third  summons  of  that  feeble 
sort  to  bring  to  the  door  the  portly  and  leisurely 
flunky,  who,  having  at  length  arrived,  surveyed 
them  with  a  chilling  and  critical  glance,  and  was 
about  to  shut  them  out  with  the  curt  direction,  —  so 
often  repeated  that  it  was  excusably  shorn  of  undue 
ceremony,  —  that  if  they  wanted  to  see -his  Excel- 


THE   GOVERNOR'S    WIFE.  93 

lency  they  must  go  to  the  Province  House,  when 
Goody  Surriage  bethought  her  to  bring  forth  the 
note.  The  experienced  lackey,  noting  that  the 
seal  was  impressed  with  a  coat-of-arms,  discreetly 
changed  his  tone,  civilly  bade  them  enter,  bestowed 
them  with  all  ceremony  in  the  ante-room,  and  strolled 
away  to  find  his  mistress. 

Mrs.  Shirley  did  not  keep  her  humble  visitors 
waiting.  She  came  down  directly  with  the  note  in 
her  hand. 

"  So  this  is  the  singing-bird  from  Marblehead !  — 
but  Mr.  Frankland  told  me  not  you  were  such  a 
beauty,  my  dear,"  she  exclaimed,  gazing  at  Agnes 
with  undisguised  admiration.  "And  this  is  your 
mother,  I  suppose?  You  are  welcome,  dame,"  she 
continued,  shaking  hands  graciously  with  Goody 
Surriage  and  then  seating  herself  comfortably  in  a 
neighboring  arm-chair,  while  the  two  stood  respect 
fully  before  her.  "  And  have  you  come  all  the  way 
from  Marblehead  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Ay,  an'  wi'  ease,  ma'am,"  returned  the  dame ;  "  't  is 
no  gret  run  wi'  a  good  wind." 

"And  this,  then,  is  your  first  visit  to  Boston,  child  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Shirley,  attentively  studying  her  youthful 
visitor. 

"Ay,  ma'am,"  stammered  Agnes,  painfully  embar 
rassed  under  such  examination. 

"  Come  with  me,  then,  and  you  shall  have  a  bird's- 
eye  view  of  the  whole  town!"  said  the  observant 
hostess,  leading  the  way  to  a  room  across  the  hall 
in  order  to  give  the  girl  time  to  recover  her  com 
posure.  "  See,  yonder  is  Boston  with  all  its  steeples 


94  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

and  windmills ;  and  if  you  have  keen  eyes  you  may 
make  out  the  beacon  on  the  top  of  the  Tramount ! " 

Agnes  gazed  with  curiosity  and  delight  upon  the 
outspread  panorama,  while  the  shrewd  matron  and 
woman  of  the  world  narrowly  scanned  her  uncon 
scious  face. 

"  '  T  is  a  gret  city !  "  exclaimed  the  neglected  dame, 
peering  over  their  shoulders. 

"Nay,  'tis  not  so  very  vast  yet,"  returned  their 
hostess,  smiling  at  the  awe-struck  tone.  "  We  have 
but  eighteen  thousand  souls,  all  told  ;  but  'tis  a  snug, 
busy,  little  town  for  all  that,  and  gives  my  husband 
more  trouble  to  govern  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
province." 

"  Ay ;  they  wor  ever-r  a  hoigh  'n'  moighty  folk," 
murmured  the  dame,  absorbed  with  the  view. 

"  Yes,"  retorted  her  ladyship,  sharply,  "  not  to  say 
cavilling  and  contumacious;  but,"  she  continued, 
suddenly  recollecting  herself  and  regarding  Agnes 
with  renewed  attention,  "  you  are  taller  than  I  sup 
posed,  my  child  ;  how  old  may  you  be,  pray  ?  " 

"  Just  tur-rned  fifteen  oi  'm  thinkin',"  answered 
Agnes,  with  an  uncertain  glance  at  her  mother. 

"  She  wor  ever  a  str-roppin'  creatur',  ma'am,"  ex 
plained  Goody  Surriage,  in  apology  for  her  size. 

"  There 's  plenty  of  time  to  learn  yet,  then,"  con 
tinued  their  hostess,  ignoring  the  maternal  comment. 

"  An'  the  for-rardest  hussy  in  the  town  to  lor-rn," 
interposed  the  dame  again. 

"  You  have  been  to  school,  then  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Agnes;  "  'twas  the  minister-r  lor-rned 
me." 


THE  GOVERNOR'S   WIFE.  95 

"  It 's  no  gret  motter-r  she  knows,  ma'am,  but  she 
need  make  her  mor-rk  no  longer-r,  'n'  she  ha'  the 
psaums  a'most  by  her-rt." 

Agnes  was  spared  further  embarrassment  by  a  wel 
come  interruption.  There  was  a  rushing  sound  out 
side  in  the  hall,  with  the  noise  of  suppressed  laughter, 
and  directly  a  half-grown  girl  appeared  in  the  door 
way  holding  by  the  collar  a  large  mastiff. 

"  Come  here,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Shirley ;  "  I 
want  you  to  know  my  visitors ;  this  is  my  daughter," 
she  continued  as  the  latter  advanced  ;  "  and  this,  my 
dear,  is  Agnes,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Frankland's,  who  has 
come  to  go  to  school  in  Boston.  I  want  you  to  be 
friends." 

The  two  girls  courtesied,  —  Agnes  awkwardly,  and 
the  other  with  an  easy  and  careless  grace  which 
marked  the  difference  in  their  breeding. 

"  Can  you  not  entertain  us,  my  dear,  with  an  air 
upon  your  harpsichord  ?  "  asked  the  mother. 

Without  coyness  or  protestation  the  well-bred  child 
went  at  once  to  the  instrument  and  played. 

The  fascination  with  which  Agnes  watched  the 
young  performer,  and  the  delight,  approaching  rap 
ture,  with  which  she  listened  to  the  music,  were  care 
fully  noted  by  Mrs.  Shirley.  When  the  performance 
ended,  Agnes  was  unable  to  repress  a  long-drawn 
sigh  of  appreciation. 

"  Would  you  like  to  learn  the  harpsichord  yourself, 
Agnes?"  asked  Mrs.  Shirley,  kindly. 

"  Oh,  oi  cud  never  lor-rn  to  do  thet ! "  she  re 
turned,  fixing  upon  the  young  player  a  look  of 
unbounded  wonder  and  admiration. 


96  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"Oh,  yes,  YOU  can,  my  dear,  if  you  are  willing  to 
study,"  said  her  hostess,  encouragingly  ;  "  but  now 
my  daughter  shall  take  you  out  and  show  you  the 
garden,  while  I  have  a  little  talk  with  your  mother." 

The  two  girls,  nothing  loath,  went  off  together  and 
were  soon  heard  laughing  and  talking  at  ease  on  the 
lawn  outside,  while  Mrs.  Shirley  good-naturedly  lis 
tened  to  voluble  details  of  Agnes's  birth  and  training 
from  garrulous  Goody  Surriage. 

"  I  see  she  has  been  a  good  child,  and  will  live,  I 
am  sure,  to  be  an  honor  and  a  blessing  to  you,"  she 
said  at  length,  rising  to  put  an  end  to  the  interview. 
"  And  now  for  the  business  in  hand  ;  she  had  better 
remain  for  the  present  with  me,  until  she  feels  herself 
a  little  at  home  and  I  can  get  her  wardrobe  in  suit 
able  repair." 

'"Her  wa-ardrobe!' "  echoed  the  dame  with  proud 
satisfaction ;  "  rest  yer-r  her-rt  easy  on  thet  scor-re, 
ma'am  !  Ag  ha'  th'  foinest  outfit  ever-r  seen  in  Mar-r- 
blehead.  Mister  Fr-ronklon,  he  ha'  left  behoind  a 
gret  stor-re  o'  money,  'n'  oi  ha'  sper-red  no  expense  ; 
she  ha'  everythin'  o'  th'  foinest,  not  to  mention  my 
own  best  roquello  oi  hed  when  oi  wor  morried,  —  as 
good  as  new." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  her  new  friend,  controlling 
an  impulse  to  smile,  as  she  surveyed  Agnes  standing 
without  on  the  lawn  grotesquely  attired  in  the  ven 
erable  marriage-cloak  of  Goody  Surriage,  with  clumsy 
brogans  on  her  feet  and  her  head  crowned  with  an 
indescribable  hood  which  would  have  made  a  guy  of 
an  angel. 

"  Ay,"  continued  the  enthusiastic  dame  ;  "her  for- 


THE   GOVERNOR'S    WIFE.  97 

ther  ha'  huffd  V  ding'd  thet  ther'  wor  n't  a  space  in 
th'  house  to  sit  him  down,  what  wi'  Ag's  petticoats ; 
'11'  Mister-r  Holyoke  ha'  taken  me  roundly  to  task 
thet  oi  sh'uld  ha'  her  head  tur-rned  wi'  foiner-ry." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  she  is  so  well  provided,"  said 
Mrs.  Shirley,  gravely.  "  Nothing  remains,  then,  but 
to  send  her  luggage  hither  until  I  can  look  up  some 
suitable  lodgings  in  which  to  bestow  her." 

"  'T  is  most  koind  'n'  obligin'  of  ye,  beyand  ony- 
thin',  oi'm  sure;  but — but — "stammered  the  embar 
rassed  dame,  "  in  the  motter-r  o'  the  lodgin's,  Mister-r 
Holyoke  ha'  writ  to  a  fr-ren'  o'  his,  'n'  —  'n'  — •" 

"  I  see,"  interposed  the  shrewd  matron,  "  you  have 
already  secured  lodgings  for  your  daughter  —  " 

;'  But  —  but,"  interrupted  the  anxious  dame,  "  'tis 
agreed,  'tis  agreed,  moind,  thet  you  'n'  his  honor 
shall  ha'  the  guidin'  o'  her,  an'  'f  ye  approve  not  the 
place,  oi'll  make  bold  to  wi'stond  Mister-r  Holyoke 
i'  the  motter-r  'n'—  " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Mrs.  Shirley,  graciously. 
"  Your  clergyman  has  no  doubt  made  choice  of  a 
suitable  place ;  and  if  Mr.  Frankland  is  content  I 
can  have  no  objection." 

"  But  ye  will  not  lose  sight  o'  Ag  ?  She  '11  be 
heavy  at  her-rt  i'  this  gret  town  wi'out  home  or 
mother-r." 

"  Yes,  yes,  dame,  rest  assured  I  will  not  neglect 
her !  I  have  promised  Mr.  Frankland  my  aid  in  his 
undertaking,  and  I  shall  not  be  wanting  to  my  word 
as  occasion  serves." 

"  Thonk  ye,  thonk  ye,  ma'am  !  'T  will  be  a  gret 
comfort  to  me  at  home  to  think  Ag  has  some  koind 

7 


98  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

fren'  at  bond ;  V  the  poor  choild  hersel'  '11  be  most 
moindful  o'  yer-r  goodness,  'n'  follow  yer  guidiu',  ye 
may  be  sur-re.  So  now  we  must  take  our  leave,  afore 
the  patience  o'  yon  grond  gentlemen  on  the  coach 
box  is  clean  gone." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   WIDOW    RUCK. 

NORTH  of  the  Mill-creek,  in  a  substantial  brick 
house,  the  eastern  gable  of  which  abutted 
upon  Tileston  Street,  lived  the  Widow  Ruck.  The 
ample  size  of  her  dwelling  and  the  thrifty  appearance 
of  her  large  garden,  which  covered  a  space  now  occu 
pied  by  several  modern  brick  blocks,  bespoke  a  com 
fortable  worldly  estate  in  the  owner.  Why  Mrs. 
Ruck  should  have  resented  this  natural  inference  is, 
at  this  distance  of  time,  not  clear  ;  but  certain  it  is 
she  let  slip  no  chance  of  discrediting  such  a  presump 
tion,  whether  by  verbal  protest  or  more  effectively 
by  the  exercise  at  all  timeg  of  a  rigorous  economy. 
There  were  not  wanting  insinuations  among  her  con 
temporaries  that  the  widow's  thrift  exceeded  the 
due  bounds  of  frugalit}^  and  had  developed  in  the 
course  of  years  into  a  trait  less  admirable.  It  be 
hooves  us,  however,  on  such  a  point,  to  reject  what 
may  have  been  mere  neighborly  backbiting,  and  as 
an  historical  character  accord  to  Mrs.  Ruck  the  priv 
ilege  of  being  judged  by  her  own  words  and  acts  as 
the}7  are  left  to  us. 

To  offset  these  injurious  reflections,  it  is  but  fair  to 
add  that,  as  a  member  in  unimpeachable  standing  of 
the  North  Congregation,  she  was  noted,  not  only  for 


100  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

the  strictest  justice  in  her  dealings,  but  generally  for 
the  austere  correctness  of  her  life.  In  the  religious 
community,  indeed,  she  was  a  leader,  equipped  for  her 
position,  not  so  much  by  superior  intelligence,  ex 
traordinary  foresight,  or  unusual  penetration,  as  by  a 
force  more  availing,  to  wit,  strength  of  conviction. 
Her  strength  in  this  way  was  enormous.'  Within 
human  limitation  it  may  safely  be  called  absolute, 
and  was  emphasized  rather  than  disguised  by  habit 
ual  reticence.  Her  outward  person  was  so  in  keep 
ing  with  these  characteristics  as  to  suggest  that  the 
inworking  forces  had  gradually  moulded  it  to  this 
harmonious  semblance.  She  wore  a  serene,  assured, 
but  long-suffering  look,  very  difficult  to  describe  ; 
more  like,  perhaps,  the  expression  of  chronic  and  con 
scious  martyrdom  than  anything  else.  A  very  no 
ticeable  trait  in  her  face  was  a  deep,  lateral  furrow 
across  the  forehead  intersected  at  right  angles  by  her 
heavy  upturned  eyebrows.  For  the  rest,  the  lines 
of  her  face  were  downward  ;  her  nose  was  straight, 
her  mouth  sufficiently  firm,  and  her  chin  not  so  em 
phatic  as  might  have  been  expected. 

A  person  of  this  sort  is  not  apt  to  be  found  want 
ing  in  a  crisis.  It  is  accordingly  matter  of  history 
that  in  the  memorable  quarrel  of  the  day  which 
rent  the  North  Congregation,  the  widow  was  the 
backbone  of  the  Gee  faction.  She  not  only  stood 
by  her  pastor,  she  led  him  on.  Firm  against  all  at 
tempts  at  conciliation  or  compromise,  she  was  one  of 
the  inflexible,  victorious  few  who  held  the  wavering 
body  of  conservatives  in  hand,  and  ultimately  drove 
their  antagonists  from  the  field. 


THE   WIDOW  RUCK.  101 

In  vain  the  Rev.  Samuel  Mather,  recognizing  the 
animating  spirit  of  the  opposition,  went  around  to  Tiles- 
ton  Street  to  expostulate  and  pray  with  his  stubborn 
adversary.  In  mechanical  deference  to  the  attitude  of 
prayer,  the  widow  laid  down  her  knitting,  rose,  and 
shut  her  eyes ;  but  for  all  other  effect  upon  her,  the  fer 
vent  supplication  poured  forth  by  her  ingenious  visitor 
might  as  well  have  been  addressed  to  Buddha. 

Naturally  enough  Mrs.  Ruck's  house,  being  within 
a  stone's-throw  of  the  sanctuary,  became  a  favorite 
rallying-place  for  all  the  meetings  and  conferences 
growing  out  of  the  warfare.  This  was  partly  the 
result  of  her  leadership,  and  partly,  as  her  neighbors 
said,  because  it  never  seemed  to  inconvenience  the 
widow  to  have  meetings,  with  her  small  and  well- 
ordered  household,  —  there  being  besides  herself  only 
her  daughter  Mercy  in  family. 

Mercy  Ruck,  moreover,  was  no  infant.  Her  salad 
days  were  already  over.  The  fact  that  she  had  re 
mained  single  in  an  age  when  spinsterhood  was  al 
most  unknown  has  been  unjustly  ascribed  to  certain 
physical  peculiarities,  which  it  would  be  ungracious, 
as  it  is  happily  unnecessary,  to  describe.  To  a  nar 
row  circle,  however,  the  truth  was  known  that  even 
poor  Mercy's  life  had  not  been  without  its  touch  of 
romance ;  that  years  before  she  had  indeed  been 
formally  betrothed  to  a  thriftless  ne'er-do-well,  who, 
having  taken  to  drinking  and  other  evil  courses, 
had  at  length  been  forbidden  the  house  by  the  in 
dignant  widow.  There  was,  moreover,  a  profane 
story  afloat,  that  on  the  memorable  night  of  his 
dismissal  the  widow,  after  sharply  upbraiding  the 


102  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

incorrigible  man,  thrust  him  forth  at  last  with  the 
parting  benediction  :  — 

"  Go,  and  never  let  me  set  eyes  on  you  again  ! 
Go,  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  — " 

"  All  right ;  let  —  hie  —  let  him  have  her  !  No  — 
hie  —  nobody  else  will  !  " 

And  so  the  ribald  scoffer  went  his  way,  —  a  very 
bad  way  too,  as  it  proved, — and  Mercy's  yearning 
heart  was  given  over  to  the  worm  of  concealment, 
which  did  its  fell  work  on  her  maiden  hope,  and 
preyed  at  will  upon  the  scant  damask  of  her  cheek. 
The  scoffer's  words  proved  true.  The  weary  years 
rolled  round  and  brought  not  his  successor.  Mean 
time,  save  for  the  religious  meetings  above  described, 
life  in  the  Ruck  household  was  one  unvarying  round 
of  leaden  hours,  linked  to  some  menial  and  fore- 
allotted  task,  and  leaving  no  record  of  their  flight 
save  in  its  accomplishment. 

One  day  this  domestic  treadmill  was  suddenly 
stopped :  Mrs.  Ruck  received  a  letter.  In  itself,  a 
letter  was  an  event ;  this  letter  was  much  more,  —  it 
contained  a  startling  proposition. 

"  'T  is  a  most  strange  proceeding  of  Master  Hoi- 
yoke,"  said  the  widow,  reading  the  letter  for  the 
twentieth  time.  "  I  know  not  what  maggot  pricked 
him  to  do  it." 

"Perhaps  'tis  some  kin  of  his  own,"  suggested 
Mercy. 

"  To  take  a  stranger  into  my  house  !  —  it  is  not  to 
be  thought  of,"  continued  the  widow,  unheeding  her 
daughter's  remark.  "  How  do  I  know  what  sort  she 
is  of,  and  whether  she  has  Christian  bringing-up  ?  " 


THE    WIDOW  RUCK.  103 

"  But  if  he  commends  her  —  " 

"  And  if  he  does,  —  what  matters  a  man's  com 
mendation  ?  What  knows  he  of  her  habits,  —  whether 
they  be  cleanly,  whether  she  will  not  cast  every 
thing  out  of  order,  leave  open  the  doors,  track  in 
slime  from  the  highway,  and  break  the  china?  I 
care  nothing  for  such  commending." 

"  But  she  may  not  be  of  that  sort,"  pleaded  Mercy, 
to  whom  the  prospect  of  having  a  youthful  addition 
to  their  household  seemed  not  so  unpleasant.  "  'Tis 
a  chance  she  may  be  well-behaved." 

"  Fudge  !  "  said  the  widow,  emphatically.  "  'T  is 
an  outlandish  place  yonder  she  comes  from,  and  the 
people  are  a  wild  set ;  they  have  long  had  a  bad 
name.  No  ;  I  '11  have  nothing  to  do  with  her  !  " 

During  this  last  speech  there  had  been  heard  a 
heavy  rumbling  in  the  street.  With  the  unconscious 
habit  of  making  the  most  of  her  small  opportunities, 
Mercy  had  mechanically  gone  to  the  window,  and 
now  turned  about  with  a  startled  look. 

"  Here  's  a  grand  coach  drawn  up  before  the  door, 
and  —  a  fine  young  gentleman  getting  out;  and  — 
my  soul  'n'  body  !  Mother  !  Mother  !  He  's  corn- 
in'  in  ! " 

Both  women  unconsciously  fingered  their  hair  and 
smoothed  their  aprons,  —  the  widow  casting  mean 
time  a  critical  glance  about  the  room. 

"  There  are  three  of  them  ;  he  has  two  women 
with  him.  'T  is  nobody  we  know  !  "  exclaimed 
Mercy,  taking  another  hurried  peep  and  cautiously 
retreating. 

Directly   the   brass   knocker  sounded,  and  a   mo- 


104  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ment  after  the  visitors  were  ushered  into  the  living- 
room.  To  Mercy,  who  stood  near  the  door  in  a 
helpless  state  of  uncertainty  whether  to  fly  or  to 
stay,  Frankland,  deceived  by  her  unimposing  appear 
ance,  handed  his  hat  on  entering.  She,  interpreting 
this  perhaps  as  a  delicate  attention,  held  fast  to  the 
hat  during  the  interview,  gently  smoothing  it,  from 
time  to  time,  with  a  caressing  movement,  and  regard 
ing  its  owner  with  speechless  admiration. 

"Have  I  the  honor  of  addressing  Mrs.  Ruck?"  he 
asked,  with  an  air  of  indifference. 

The  widow  courtesied  stiffly,  and  adjusted  the  im 
maculate  strings  of  her  mob-cap. 

"  We  have  come,  then  —  that  is,  this  good  woman 
has  an  errand  with  you.  Dame,  speak  for  yourself!  " 
he  said,  stepping  aside  to  make  way  for  Goody 
Surriage. 

"  Will  you  please  to  be  seated  ?  "  said  the  widow, 
with  grave  politeness,  settling  back,  the  while,  into 
her  own  chair,  and  folding  her  hands  in  her  lap. 

"  Ay ! "  exclaimed  Dame  Surriage,  perching  her 
self  upon  the  edge  of  the  nearest  chair.  "  Mister-r 
Holyoke  ha'  told  ye,  beloike.  It 's  fur-r  our-r  Ag, 
ther'.  She  ha'  come  up  hither-r  to  be  made  a  schol- 
ar-rd  ;  V  our-r  teacher-r  ha'  commended  ye  fur  the 
roight  sor-rt  to  take  care  o'  the  poor  choild.  Only, 
oi  thought  not  't  would  be  so  gr-rond  a  place,"  con 
tinued  the  dame,  looking  about  with  frank  admira 
tion.  "  Oi  never-r  thought  to  see  a  choild  o'  moine 
lodg'd  loike  this !  " 

"  Master  Holyoke  has  done  me  great  honor," 
answered  the  widow,  coldly,  "  of  which  I  trust  I 


THE    WIDOW  RUCK.  105 

am  not  unmindful ;  but  in  the  matter  you  propose  I 
cannot  oblige  him." 

"  Eh,  ma'am  !  "  exclaimed  Goody  Surriage  in  loud 
mouthed  dismay  at  this  unexpected  blow ;  "  ye  will 
not  ha'  her?" 

"  I  grieve  to  say,"  returned  Mrs.  Ruck,  shaking 
her  head  emphatically,  "it  is  quite  out  of  the 
question." 

"  Mer-rcy  upon  us !  the  fat  is  all  in  the  foire !  " 
cried  the  amazed  fishwife ;  "  but,"  she  continued, 
turning  to  make  one  more  appeal,  "  'f  ye  knew  what 
a  koind  'n'  loight-her-rted  creatur'  she  is,  our  Ag  — " 

"  I  have  heard  her  good  qualities  rehearsed  by 
Master  Holyoke,"  returned  the  widow,  scanning 
Agnes  with  a  keen  and  by  no  means  prepossessed 
air ;  "  but  I  care  not  to  take  a  stranger  into  my 
family." 

"  Ther'  now  yer  roight ;  a  str-raunger  's  one  thing, 
but  our  Ag  —  " 

"  My  household,"  continued  the  widow,  without 
heeding  the  interruption,  "is  ordered  after  time- 
honored  rules  which  I  could  not  suffer  to  be  set 
aside." 

"An'  d'ye  think,  ma'am,  Ag  Surriage  is  apt  to 
tur-rn  ye  topsy-tur-rvy  ?  " 

"It  would,  moreover,"  pursued  Mrs.  Ruck,  quite 
oblivious  of  the  dame's  dramatic  interjections,  "  be  a 
great  care  and  responsibility  which  at  my  age  I  am 
not  willing  to  undertake." 

"Ay,  but  —  "' 

"Enough,  enough,  dame  ;  let 's  have  done ! "  inter 
posed  Frankland,  who  perhaps  after  ten  minutes' 


106  AGNES  SURE  I  AGE. 

careful  study  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  not 
displeased  the  negotiations  should  fail.  "  'T  is  use 
less  to  press  the  matter  since  Mrs.  Ruck  is  unwilling. 
Come,  let  us  say  good-day,  then,  for  we  have  no 
time  to  lose." 

"  Tt — tt — tt !"  exclaimed  Goody  Surriage,  making 
with  her  tongue  against  the  roof  of  her  mouth  a 
significant  sound  of  regret;  "'tis  a  gr-ret  —  a  gr-ret 
pity,  when  Ag  ud  be  out  o't  most  por-rt  o'  the 
toime  at  school,  'n'  his  honor-r  ther'  stonds  ready  to 
pay  ony  pr-rice  at  a'  fur-r  her  lodgin', — tt — tt — tt! " 

"Ahem!"  coughed  the  widow,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  countenance.  "I  knew  not  —  that  is,  'tis 
you,  then,  sir,"  turning  to  the  Collector,  "  who  are 
to  be  chargeable  for  —  for —  " 

"  All  costs  and  expenses,"  said  Frankland,  finishing 
the  halting  sentence  ;  "  but  since  we  have  your  an 
swer,"  he  continued,  taking  his  hat  from  the  reluctant 
Mercy,  "•  there  is  no  need  to  trespass  further  on  your 
patience." 

"But  I  —  pardon  me  —  I  knew  not  the  matter 
was  so  urgent.  If  there  be  —  that  is  —  I  fain  would 
discuss  it  more  at  length,"  stammered  Mrs.  Ruck, 
rubbing  her  nose  with  an  air  of  discomfiture. 

"  To  what  purpose,  ma'am,  since  your  inind  is  made 
up?" 

"There  might  be  —  I  am  not  wont  to  despatch 
affairs  of  moment  in  so  brief  a  fashion ;  I  spoke  in 
haste  and  upon  first  impression." 

"Ay,  ay!"  interposed  Goody  Surriage,  rendered 
very  anxious  by  Frankland's  move  to  go  ;  "  hor-rken 
now,  yer  honor-r,  she  be  goin'  to  say  somethin' !" 


THE    WIDOW  RUCK.  107 

"  If,"  pursued  the  widow,  with  a  watchful  eye  upon 
Frankland,  "as  'tis  said,  the  girl  is  to  be  absent  so 
much  of  the  time  at  school,  why,  it  puts  the  matter 
upon  a  new  basis,  and  there  is  good  ground  for  re 
consideration." 

"  Ground  there  may  be,"  returned  Frankland,  with 
ill-controlled  impatience,  "but  very  brief  time  for  it; 
the  question  must  needs  be  settled  out  of  hand." 

"  Thet  must  it,"  interposed  Goody  Surriage,  "  fur 
my  goodman  is  waiting  below  in  the  ketch,  and  must 
set  sail  before  sundown  ;  but  oi  budge  not  a  foot  fro' 
this  town  till  Ag  ha'  a  roof  over-r  her  head,  oi 
worrnt  ye." 

The  widow  fidgeted  in  her  chair,  and  cast  a  cal 
culating  look  at  Agnes. 

"If  you  have  nothing  further  to  say — "  began 
Frankland,  chafing  at  the  delay. 

"  Why,  sir,  I  like  not  such  urgency." 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it,  madam." 

"  Such  being  the  case,"  said  the  widow,  hesitat 
ingly,  "and  in  consideration  of  Master  Holyoke, 
whom  I  should  grieve  to  disoblige,  I  will  so  far  run 
counter  to  all  my  habits  and  prejudices  as  to  receive 
her  on  probation  and  under  proper  conditions." 

"  That  will  not  do,"  said  Frankland,  firmly. 

"  You  cannot  expect  me  to  undertake  such  a 
charge  without  limit ;  and  there  must  needs  be 
terms,  sir,  I  suppose,"  retorted  the  widow,  dissem 
bling  with  effort  her  vexation. 

"  Assuredly  ;  and  they  shall  be  briefly  these  :  you 
shall  receive  Miss  Surriage  — 

A  slight  blush  passed  over  Agnes's  face  at  the  first 


108  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

use  of  tins  honorary  title  in  connection  with  her 
name,  and  she  cast  a  deprecating  look  at  the  widow, 
who  was  too  intent  on  the  Collector  to  heed  her. 

" — here  present,  into  your  family,  give  her  the 
best  your  house  affords,  both  in  fare  and  lodging, 
and  see  to  it,  moreover,  that  she  has  at  all  times  due 
attendance  ;  for  all  which  you  shall  be  promptly  paid 
any  fit  sum  you  may  choose  to  demand." 

"  Hor-rken  ye  to  thet,  ma'am !  What  ha'  oi  told 
ye  ?  "  exclaimed  Goody  Surriage,  triumphantly. 

"For  the  rest,"  continued  Frankland,  peremp 
torily,  "you  are  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  her 
movements.  She  is  to  come  and  go  at  her  own  free 
will,  and  order  her  life  after  the  advice  of  the  friends 
here  in  town  who  have  her  education  in  charge." 

Mrs.  Ruck  was  silent,  and  bit  her  lips  with  chagrin. 
The  conversation  had  taken  a  very  unexpected  turn. 
Having  the  game  at  first  entirely  in  her  own  hands, 
she  had  seen  it  pass  into  those  of  her  strange  visitors. 
Quite  without  precedent,  she  found  herself  submitting 
quietly  to  dictation;  yet,  under  the  pressure  of  a  still 
stronger  passion  than  resentment,  she  curbed  her 
temper  and  held  her  tongue. 

"  Do  you  accede  to  these  terms,  madam  ?  "  asked 
the  Collector,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  The  measure  of  compensation  seems  not  to  have 
been  included,"  answered  the  widow,  evasively. 

"  That  remains  for  you  to  fix;  pray  you  name  it  at 
once." 

"  I  would  not  undertake  such  a  charge,  sir,"  began 
the  widow,  with  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  her  eye, 
"short  of  four  guineas  a  month." 


THE    WIDOW  RUCK.  109 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  said  the  Collector,  quietly. 

"  Eh  !  I  —  you  —  "  stammered  Mrs.  Ruck,  aghast  at 
the  instant  acceptance  of  her  extortionate  demand. 

"  I  accept  the  terms,  and  the  bargain  is  settled. 
So  now,  dame,"  —  to  Goody  Surriage, —  "  set  your 
heart  at  rest,  and  go  home  in  peace,  to  report  to  your 
parson  !  And  you,  madam,"  —  to  Mrs.  Ruck,  — 
"please  hold  yourself  in  readiness  to  receive  your 
new  lodger  this  very  night.  Come,  lass," — to  Ag 
nes,  —  "  let  us  go  and  see  about  your  luggage." 

The  three  accordingly  bowed  and  courtesied  them 
selves  out,  leaving  the  discomfited  widow  to  repent 
her  own  short-sightedness  in  not  charging  them 
double  the  price  for  her  lodgings. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"FINE   FEATHERS." 

"  T}RAY  you  have  patience  a  minute  more, ma'am; 

jL  there  needs  a  knot  of  ribbon  here  yet,  and 
that  curl  in  the  neck  is  to  be  lowered,  —  so;  there, 
now,  'tis  done  at  last!  I  can  go  no  further. 
Madam  will  not  hear  of  powder,  she  thinks  you  too 
young ;  but  had  I  my  own  way,  trust  me,  I  'd 
whiten  your  head  to  the  hue  of  chalk,  the  better  to 
set  off  that  pair  of  shining  black  eyes.  Ay,  and  clap 
a  bouncing  patch  here  under  the  left  temple  to  draw 
notice  to  the  blooming  roses  on  your  cheek.  Oh, 
my,  ma'am,"  continued  the  enthusiastic  abigail, 
drawing  back  to  study  the  effect  of  her  handiwork, 
"  what  a  beauty  I  could  make  of  you  !  " 

Agnes  rose  from  the  seat  where  she  had  been  sit 
ting  submissively  under  the  manipulation  of  Mrs. 
Shirley's  maid,  and  posed  for  a  final  review  before 
the  critical  gaze  of  that  experienced  tire-woman. 

"  In  my  own  humble  judgment,  ma'am,  your  hoop 
is  too  small  by  half;  one  gets  but  a  scant  glimpse  of 
your  ankles;  and,  with  all  due  respect  to  my  mistress, 
your  canary  gown  would  be  better  set  off  with  a 
petticoat  of  puce-color  than  that  washed-out  blue, 
though  't  is  as  fine  a  bit  of  brocade  as  one  would  wish 


"FINE  FEATHERS."  Ill 

to  see.  Hark !  "  she  cried,  stopping  suddenly  to  lis 
ten  ;  "  there  goes  mistress's  bell,  and  she  '11  not  bear 
to  be  kept  waiting.  Deary  me !  but  I  'd  give  all  my 
old  shoes  to  hear  her  cry  out  when  first  she  claps  eye 
on  you." 

Left  to  herself,  Agnes  approached  the  mirror  and 
stood  gazing  dumfoimded  at  the  change  which  had 
been  wrought  in  her  appearance.  Scarcely  did  she 
recognize  her  own  form  and  features.  From  the 
dowdy  fisher-girl  of  an  hour  before  she  had  been 
transformed,  as  with  the  waving  of  a  wand,  into  the 
semblance  of  a  woman  of  fashion. 

With  the  natural  ingenuous  delight  of  the  butter 
fly  newly  come  forth  from  its  chrysalis,  she  fluttered 
her  finery  and  spread  wide  the  wings  of  her  glory. 
Turning  this  way  and  that,  peeping  curiously  over 
her  shoulder  to  get  every  effect  of  her  beautiful 
draperies,  now  advancing,  now  retreating,  with  sober 
or  with  mincing  step,  to  the  music  of  her  pattering 
little  heels,  she  passed  a  half-hour  of  purely  feminine 
rapture.  Turning  then  with  lips  still  wearing  a  smile 
of  pleased  vanity,  her  eye  fell  by  chance  upon  her  own 
simple  dress  thrown  in  a  heap  upon  a  neighboring 
chair.  In  a  flash,  forgetful  of  finery  and  furbelows, 
she  flung  herself  upon  the  floor,  and  burying  her 
face  in  those  coarse  garments  broke  into  a  violent  fit 
of  weeping. 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Shirley  en 
tered.  Her  first  look  of  astonishment  gave  place 
instantly  to  one  of  entire  comprehension  of  the  scene. 
Stooping  to  put  her  arm  about  the  sobbing  girl,  she 
said  quietly :  — 


112  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"If  you  would  like  better,  my  child,  you  shall 
wear  your  own  gown." 

"No,"  cried  Agnes,  starting  up;  "  por-rdon  me, 
ma'am  !  oi  meant  not  to  blubber-r.  'T  is  a  grond 
V  a  beautifu'  gown ;  oi  thonk  ye  'n'  his  honor-r  fur 't, 
'n'  fur  a'  yer  koindness." 

"  You  must  remember,  too,  that  we  are  all  your 
friends  here." 

"  Oi  do  ;  thet  oi  do,  mor-rnin'  'n'  noight.  Oi  know 
not  what  ails  me  ;  't  was  somethin'  come  over-r  me 
sudden  loike.  Oi  thought  o'  th'  old  place  'n'  mother-r 
'n'  the  young  uns  'n'  Job,  'n'  a'  at  once  it  made  a 
baby  o'  me." 

"  It  does  credit  to  your  heart,  my  child.  I  would 
not  have  you  forget  your  old  home  and  friends.  I 
would  have  you  often  think  of  them,  but  not  with 
tears." 

"  No,  oi  '11  blubber-r  no  mor-re  ;  oi  ha'  nuthin'  to 
blubber-r  for.  Yer  moinded  to  make  a  leddy  o'  me  ; 
oi  know  not  what  '11  come  o't,  but,"  she  concluded 
with  a  touch  of  pride,  "  oi  '11  try  to  gi'  ye  no  cause  to 
repent  yer  pur-rpose." 

"  That's  right,  my  child.  Be  faithful  to  the  duties 
God  has  allotted  you,  and  you  will  have  no  cause  for 
tears  or  unhappiness,"  returned  Mrs.  Shirley,  study 
ing  with  a  gratified  sidelong  glance  the  details  of 
Agnes's  toilet  while  she  mechanically  pronounced 
this  moral  truism.  "But  come,"  she  suddenly  con 
cluded  ;  "  Mr.  Shirley  arrived  a  good  half-hour  ago, 
and  will  grow  impatient  for  his  supper.  Let  us  go 
down." 

Thus  speaking,  she  led  the  way  out  of  the  cham- 


"FINE  FEATHERS."  113 

her  upon  an  open  gallery  running  around  three  sides 
of  the  great  hall,  which,  rising  from  the  floor  to  the 
very  roof,  occupied  the  main  body  of  the  house.  On 
the  remaining  side  the  wall  was  broken  by  large  win 
dows  and  folding-doors  of  glass,  which  afforded  a  wide, 
unbroken  prospect  of  the  distant  sea.  In  the  corner 
a  staircase  with  an  elegantly  carved  balustrade  led 
down  to  the  lower  story. 

"Walk  about  here  for  a  space  and  look  out  of  the 
windows  until  you  dry  your  eyes,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Shirley,  when  they  reached  the  floor  of  the  hall ;  "  and 
I  will  come  for  you  presently." 

Passing  on  herself  to  a  small  ante-room  on  the  right 
of  the  vestibule,  she  found  his  Excellency  had  brought 
home  a  guest  to  supper. 

Agnes  meantime  walked  up  and  down  the  great 
hall  in  the  waning  light,  recovering  from  her  emotion 
and  getting  used  to  the  constraint  of  her  new  finery. 
She  had  now  been  a  guest  in  the  Governor's  mansion 
for  more  than  a  week.  Mrs.  Shirley  having  found  her 
at  the  Widow  Ruck's  in  a  doleful  state  of  dumps,  with 
motherly  kindness  brought  her  straightway  home  to 
the  more  cheerful  atmosphere  of  a  large  and  bustling 
household.  Here,  despite  Goody  Surriage's  assur 
ances,  the  opportunity,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been 
improved  of  providing  her  a  wardrobe  more  in  keep 
ing  with  her  new  sphere  of  life. 

Her  reverie  was  presently  disturbed  by  a  servant 
passing  through  the  hall  to  announce  supper ;  and 
directly  afterwards  Mrs.  Shirley  came  ushering  in 
the  two  gentlemen  on  their  way  to  the  dining-room. 

"See!"    she  cried,   with  a  touch  of  playfulness, 


114  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

leading  them  towards  Agnes,  who  stood  motionless 
in  the  midst  of  the  hall,  "  I  have  a  surprise  in  store 
for  you,  —  a  young  lady  to  supper.  Will  it  please 
your  Excellency  to  be  presented,  —  and  you,  Mr. 
Frankland  ? " 

Both  gentlemen  made  profound  congees  before  the 
stately  figure  of  the  young  girl  outlined  like  a  silhou 
ette  against  the  great  window.  Before  any  one 
could  speak,  the  butler  threw  wide  open  the  door 
of  the  dining-room,  and  the  blaze  of  the  chandelier 
within  fell  full  upon  the  little  group. 

"  Agnes!  "  cried  Frankland,  breathless  with  aston 
ishment. 

"  Impossible  !  "  ejaculated  the  Governor. 

"  Quite  possible,"  cried  his  wife,  laughing ;  "  but 
enough  of  this  scrutiny.  Come,  my  dear,"  she  con 
tinued,  passing  her  arm  about  the  embarrassed  girl, 
"  they  shall  stare  at  you  no  more  ;  we  will  give  them 
something  better  to  do." 

But  supper  proved  an  insufficient  distraction. 
Both  those  polished  gentlemen  sadly  forgot  their 
manners,  and  so  shamelessly  scanned  the  blushing 
maiden,  that  her  hostess  at  last  mercifully  found 
some  pretext  to  excuse  her  from  the  table. 

"  Fie,  gentlemen  ! "  she  cried,  when  Agnes  was 
gone.  "  Could  you  not  let  the  poor  child  have  her 
supper  in  peace  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  you  bring  such  a  siren  to  the  table," 
protested  her  husband,  "  you  must  take  the  conse 
quences." 

"  This  proves  the  adage  that  '  fine  feathers  make 
fine  birds.'  Here  has  she  been  sitting  under  your 


"FINE   FEATHERS"  115 

very  eyes  for  a  week  and  you  have  not  deigned  to  cast 
so  much  as  a  look  at  her." 

"  I  did  note  her  eyes  were  fine,"  pleaded  his  Ex 
cellency,  "  though  they  were  for  the  most  part  down 
cast  ;  but  as  for  her  figure,  it  was  as  well  hidden 
in  those  duds  she  wore  as  a  statue  in  a  block  of 
marble." 

"  I  would  humbly  apologize  for  my  own  ill- 
breeding,"  said  Frankland  ;  "  but  indeed  I  was  quite 
lost  in  amazement." 

"  You  are  acquitted,  and  justified  too.  She  is  a 
great  beauty  ;  it  well-nigh  took  my  own  breath,  I 
assure  you,  when  I  first  beheld  her." 

"  She  has  not  her  match  in  the  province,"  ex 
claimed  the  Governor,  enthusiastically.  "  Indeed,  for 
such  combined  perfections  of  face  and  figure  I  pro 
fess  never  to  have  seen  her  equal,  save,"  he  added,  as 
he  caught  the  keen  eye  of  his  spouse  fixed  upon  him, 
"  alwa}*s,  of  course,  one  who  —  " 

"  A  timely  exception,  sir,"  interrupted  his  wife, 
nodding  demurely  ;  "  but  now,  Mr.  Frankland,  we 
must  set  to  work  straightway  to  untwist  that  abomi 
nable  br-r-r  from  her  tongue." 

"  I  will  go  in  search  of  a  tutor  to-morrow,"  said  the 
Collector. 

"  You  need  not ;  for  here  is  the  very  man  for  your 
purpose.  Listen,"  cried  his  hostess,  drawing  from  her 
pocket  a  copy  of  the  "  Evening  Post "  and  reading 
the  following  advertisement :  — 

"  Mr.  Peter  Pelham,  who  has  been  from  Boston  these 
nine  years  past  under  the  tuition  of  accomplished  professors 
in  the  art  of  music,  is  now  returned  and  ready  to  attend 


116  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ladies  and  gentlemen  as  a  tutor  in  that  art  on  the  harpsi 
chord  and  spinet,  or  offers  his  attendance  at  his  father's 
house  (or  school)  in  Leverett's  Lane,  near  King's  Street,  to 
teach  the  rudiments  of  psalmody,  Hymns,  Anthems,  etc." 

Frankland  readily  accepted  the  suggestion,  and 
next  day  accordingly  went  with  Agnes  to  wait  upon 
Master  Pelham,  whom  they  found  in  very  comfortable 
quarters  close  by  a  little  inlet  long  ago  filled  up  and 
built  over  with  the  solid  and  stately  buildings  which 
line  the  present  Congress  Street. 

Master  Pelham,  to  Agnes's  great  relief,  proved 
by  no  means  a  formidable  person.  During  his  long 
residence  abroad,  moreover,  he  had  acquired,  it  seems, 
besides  his  music  and  his  polished  manners,  divers 
other  accomplishments;  for  he  took  occasion  to 
announce  to  them  that  he  was  presently  to  open  a 
small  and  very  select  class  in  dancing,  after  the 
method  taught  in  the  French  capital. 

He  readily  undertook  the  charge  of  Agnes's  musical 
studies ;  and  furthermore,  at  Frankland's  whispered 
request,  engaged  specially  to  train  her  in  correct  and 
elegant  enunciation.  Arrangements  were  also  made 
that  the  head  usher  in  his  father's  school,  under  the 
same  roof,  should  give  her  private  instruction  in 
writing,  reading,  and  casting  accounts.  As  she  was, 
moreover,  to  join  the  class  in  dancing,  and  begin  the 
study  of  drawing  under  Master  Pelham  himself,  every 
provision  seemed  to  have  been  made  to  fit  her  in 
time  to  cope  with  the  most  accomplished  fine  ladies 
of  the  day. 

To  all  these  details  Agnes  paid  little  heed ;  her 
eyes  were  fixed  with  engrossing  interest  upon  the 


"FINE  FEATHERS."  117 

harpsichord,  and  her  mind  filled  with  delight  at  the 
thought  that  she  was  to  be  taught  the  magic  art  of 
using  it. 

After  leaving  Master  Pelham's,  as  she  had  finished 
her  visit  at  the  Shirleys',  Frankland  conducted  her 
back  to  Mrs.  Ruck's,  prepared  on  the  morrow  to 
enter  upon  the  duties  and  difficulties  of  her  new 
life. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

LIFE    AT   TILESTOK   STREET. 

WHATEVER  chagrin  the  Widow  Ruck  may 
have  felt  at  not  making  a  better  bargain 
with  Frankland  was  set  down  by  that  conscientious 
person  to  the  account  of  moral  discipline,  and  not 
suffered  to  abate,  by  a  jot  or  tittle,  the  fullest  meas 
ure  of  justice  in  her  dealings  with  Agnes.  The  new 
lodger  was  duly  installed  in  the  best  chamber  in  the 
house,  but  not,  however,  before  she  had  been  pro 
foundly  impressed  with  its  peculiar  sanctity. 

"  This  room  has  not  been  used,"  explained  the 
widow,  as  she  ushered  Agnes  into  the  darkened 
chamber,  "  since  my  late  beloved  husband  deceased 
here." 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  the  startled  girl,  stopping  on 
the  threshold,  and  looking  timorously  about  in  the 
dim  nooks  and  corners. 

"Note  the  furniture,"  continued  the  widow; 
"  there 's  nothing  like  it  in  the  house  !  That  tester- 
bed —  come  closer,  that  you  may  see  —  was  my  own 
great-grandmother's,  and  brought  over  from  Eng 
land  ;  mark  the  curious  carving  of  the  posts  !  This 
silken  comforter  was  quilted  by  my  mother,  and 
stuffed  —  lift  it  in  your  hand  —  with  eider-down  ; 
the  like  is  not  to  be  had  now  for  love  nor  money. 


LIFE  AT   TILESTON  STREET.  119 

The  bed  is  of  live-geese  feathers,"  continued  the 
enthusiastic  housewife,  giving  it  a  probative  poke, 
"bequeathed  to  me  by  my  late  grandmother,  who 
herself  passed  away  upon  it." 

"  But,"  interposed  Agnes  in  faltering  tones,  "  ha' 
ye  no  other-r  place  to  lodge  me  ?  Oi  —  oi  'd  loike 
better-r  ye  gev  me  some  bit  o'  a  room  wher'  — " 

"  The  sheets,"  pursued  the  widow,  turning  down 
the  upper  one  and  passing  it  between  her  experienced 
thumb  and  finger,  "  are  of  the  best  linen,  of  my  own 
spinning,  and  have  been  laid  up  in  lavender  these 
twenty  years.  Yonder  chest  of  drawers  was  fetched 
by  my  uncle,  a  ship-captain,  from  foreign  parts,  forty 
years  ago,  and  not  a  scratch  on  it  yet ;  and  this  table 
of  satin-wood,"  she  went  on,  giving  it  a  passing  dust 
with  her  apron,  —  "  you  may  see  your  face  in  it  almost 
as  well  as  the  mirror  above,  which  is  of  the  finest 
French  plate,"  she  concluded,  knuckling  the  glass. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  murmured  the  awe-struck  lodger  ;  "  but 
oi'll  ha'  some  chaumber-r  thet 's  not  so  gr-rond." 

"No,"  returned  the  widow,  firmly  ;  "'twas  con 
tracted  you  should  have  the  best;  and  here  it  is,  at 
your  service." 

"  But  —  but,"  stammered  Agnes,  "  ther's  no 
knowin'  at  a'  what  hor-rm  oi  moight  do  here." 

"  If  you  take  heed  —  proper  heed,"  returned  Mrs. 
Ruck,  marking  the  emphatic  word  with  a  nod  of  her 
head  and  a  tightening  of  her  lips,  "  you  need  do  no 
harm  ;  but  once  begin  to  cast  things  out  of  order  and 
knock  them  about,  and  they  '11  soon  go  to  destruction." 

Thus  warned,  the  hapless  lodger  took  possession. 
For  weeks  she  entered  the  awful  chamber  with  bated 


120  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

breath,  tiptoed  about  in  the  brooding  twilight,  scarce 
daring  to  lay  hand  upon  the  precious  furniture,  and 
climbed  at  night  into  the  bed  sanctified  by  the  mortal 
release  of  Mrs.  Ruck's  progenitors,  with  fear  and 
trembling. 

Daily  use,  however,  makes  sad  havoc  of  awe,  as  of 
divers  other  cobwebs  of  the  imagination.  The  free 
and  independent  spirit  of  the  young  fisher-girl  soon 
rose  above  the  thraldom  of  mere  things.  Deeply 
concerned  with  certain  vital  questions  relating  to  her 
new  life,  she  presently  forgot  the  grandeur  of  her 
room,  and  from  the  hour  when  she  reached  the  point 
of  daring  to  fling  wide  the  shutters  and  let  in  the 
light  of  day,  began  to  feel  at  home  in  it.  On  the 
second  story  and  southeast  corner  of  the  house,  it 
commanded  a  wide  and  picturesque  view.  To  the 
north,  beyond  the  estuary  of  the  Charles,  lay  the 
sloping  hills  of  Noddle's  Island,  rich  now  in  their 
dress  of  autumnal  browns.  On  the  hither  shore  the 
eastern  coast-line  of  the  peninsula  writhed  in  and 
out  like  a  vast  terminal  serpent  from  North  Point  on 
the  left  to  the  Old  Sconce  on  the  right  and  Windmill 
Point  in  the  farther  distance.  Before  the  southern 
windows,  obstructed  only  by  an  occasional  two-story 
building  on  Hanover  Street,  lay  outspread  the  South 
End  from  the  Town  Dock  to  far-off  Frog  Lane,  brist 
ling  with  the  many  characteristic  features  of  provin 
cial  Boston,  —  the  fine  new  hall  just  given  by  the 
munificent  Faneuil ;  the  Town  House  ;  the  frowning 
fortifications  of  Fort  Hill;  the  shabby  little  King's 
Chapel ;  a  chance  angle  of  the  old  stone  jail,  seen  be 
tween  a  projecting  corner  of  the  "Manifesto  Church" 


LIFE  AT  TILESTON  STREET.  121 

and  the  roof  of  the  "  Old  Cocked  Hat;  "  the  towering 
steeple  of  the  Old  South  ;  the  royal  colors  flying  above 
Deacon  Shem  Browne's  wooden  Indian  on  the  distant 
Province  House  ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  farther  to 
the  west,  looming  up  in  virgin  wildness,  triple-peaked 
Beacon  Hill,  over  which  Agnes  used  to  watch  the  days 
fade  away  in  varying  gloom  or  splendor  as  she  sat 
and  mused  upon  the  changed  conditions  of  her  life; 
mused  upon  the  past,  now  so  long  ago,  not  without 
a  pang  at  the  thought  of  her  last  parting  with  Job ; 
mused  haply  until  all  pangs  and  regrets  faded  from 
her  heart  with  the  incoming  of  other  and  sweeter 
thoughts,  —  thoughts  of  the  present  and  of  the  future, 
bringing  a  strange  soft  lustre  to  her  eye  and  deepen 
ing  the  tender  glow  upon  her  cheek. 

Such  thoughts  it  may  have  been  which  carried  her 
scathless  through  all  the  rigor  and  discipline  of  the 
Ruck  household,  where  her  transgressions  were  of 
course  frequent. 

"  What  is  here  ? "  the  widow  had  at  first  almost 
daily  occasion  to  cry  "  Mercy,  is  it  you  who  have 
come  in  with  foul  feet  and  besmirched  the  floor  to 
this  filthy  state?" 

The  innocent  Mercy,  who  had  never  in  her  life 
dared  commit  such  an  offence,  would  look  up  and 
stammer,  "I  —  I  knew  not  that  I  did." 

"  Come  here,  then,  and  see  !  A  brute  beast  would 
know  better ;  look !  'T  is  fitter  work  for  a  shovel 
than  the  mop  !  " 

"  Beloike  'tis  oi  ha'  done  it,"  Agnes  would  at 
length  exclaim,  with  reluctant  but  heroic  candor;  for 
the  widow's  wrath  was  not  to  be  lightly  encountered. 


122  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mrs.  Ruck,  whether  withheld 
by  thoughts  of  the  peremptory  young  gentleman 
down  in  the  Custom  House,  of  the  watchful,  keen- 
eyed  matron  yonder  in  Roxbury,  or  by  certain  indi 
cations  of  a  fearless,  intractable  spirit  in  the  offender 
herself,  took  care  not  to  brandish  too  constantly  the 
rod  of  discipline,  even  over  the  vicarious  shoulders  of 
uncomplaining  Mercy. 

The  widow,  however,  knew  how  to  lighten  without 
thundering,  and  Agnes  soon  grew  weatherwise  in 
facial  signs.  Nor  was  discipline  of  this  modified  sort 
unwholesome  ;  the  exquisite  neatness  of  Mrs.  Ruck's 
household  and  the  habits  of  cleanliness  she  inculcated 
were  no  superfluous  features  in  the  training  of  the 
neglected  fisher-girl.  Neither  did  Agnes  prove  an 
inapt  pupil.  Keenly  sensible  of  her  own  defects,  she 
was  ever  on  the  alert  to  take  advantage  of  any  hint 
that  could  further  her  progress.  All  her  surround 
ings  thus  became  educational  influences  of  differing 
values.  But  among  these  various  incentives  none 
wrought  perhaps  a  more  immediate  and  profound 
moral  effect  than  her  personal  finery.  To  live  up 
to  the  standard  of  her  hoops  and  damask,  of  her 
laces  and  brocades,  to  sustain  herself  at  the  perilous 
social  elevation  to  which  she  had  been  lifted  by  her 
pattering  little  heels,  became  a  controlling  purpose 
of  her  life,  and,  in  certain  senses,  a  natural  and 
noble  aim. 

The  impulse  to  all  this  had  been  given  by  Frank- 
land,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  in  that  moment 
when  he  had  thrust  down  the  barriers  of  caste  and 
called  her  up  to  a  higher  social  plane  with  that  magic 


LIFE  AT   TILESTON  STREET.  123 

title,  —  Miss  Surriage.  Meantime,  whatever  profit  or 
advantage  Agnes  may  have  derived  from  the  disci 
pline  of  the  Ruck  household,  she  herself  was  in  turn 
an  object  of  the  profoundest  interest  to  one  of  its 
members.  Mercy  Ruck  was  never  tired  of  admiring 
the  beauty  of  the  new  lodger,  —  wondering  at  her  rich 
clothes,  her  blunt  manners,  her  broad  speech,  and,  in 
fine,  at  the  mystery  of  incongruity  which  surrounded 
her.  The  spinster's  big,  eager  eyes  would  furtively 
follow  the  unconscious  Agnes  as  she  went  hither  and 
thither  about  the  house,  or  rest  upon  her  in  absorbed 
fascination  as  she  sat  conning  her  tasks.  On  better 
acquaintance  she  ventured  to  steal  up  into  her  young 
guest's  room  on  some  professed  errand,  and  there, 
unawed  by  the  widow's  presence,  linger  for  a  little 
chat. 

On  her  first  visit  she  stared  in  amazement  to 
see  the  shutters  thrown  back,  and  from  her  look  of 
interest,  as  she  placed  herself  at  the  window,  it  was 
evident  that  the  view  was  a  revelation. 

"  If  't  was  n't  for  the  '  Revenge '  meeting-house,"  she 
said,  craning  her  neck  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  something 
beyond,  "  you  might  see,  might  n  't  you  —  " 

"Eh?" 

"  The  place  where  he  stays  ?  " 

Agnes  looked  curious. 

"  Likely  he  's  a  relation  of  yours  ?  "  continued  the 
visitor,  with  a  furtive  glance  at  the  puzzled  lodger. 

"Who's  thet?" 

"  Mr.  —  what-d'  ye-call-him  —  the  fine  young  gen 
tleman  who  brought  you  here." 

"  Mister- r  Fr-ronklond  kin  o'  moine  ?  "  cried  Agnes, 


124  AGXES  SURRIAGE. 

with  a  burst  of  laughter.  "  Bless  the  her-rt  'n'  soul  o' 
ye,  not  he  !  " 

"•Oh  !  "  was  the  not  very  discomfited  comment. 

"  He  's  a  gret  lor-rd,  or  somethin'  hoigh  '11'  moighty, 
is  he." 

"  P'raps  I  can  see  it  better  from  here,"  muttered 
the  visitor,  crossing  to  the  other  window  as  if  still 
busied  with  the  view.  "  A  great  lord  is  he,  and  an 
old  friend  of  yours  ?  "  she  concluded,  with  the  air  of 
repeating  something  that  had  just  been  said. 

"  '  Friend  ' !  "  echoed  Agnes,  pausing  over  the  word 
as  if  it  suggested  some  new  thought  to  her  mind. 
"Ay,  oi  hope  he  is  thet — but  not  so  ver-ry  old, 
nuther-r." 

"  Oh  !  I  only  thought — but 't  is  no  concern  of  mine. 
What  a  beautiful  tucker  you  have  on,  MLss  Agnes  !  " 

"  Ay,  the  Governor's  leddy  bought  it,"  returned 
Agnes,  with  a  careless  glance  downward ;  "  but  at 
Mister-r  Fr-ronklond's  chor-rge." 

"'Tis  wonderfully  wrought,"  said  Mercy,  drawing 
near  and  examining  the  needlework  with  experienced 
eyes.  "  Does  he  give  you  many  such  rare  gifts  ?  " 

"This  —  'tis  nothin'  to  others  oi  ha'  got;  look  ye 
here  !  "  cried  Agnes  enthusiastically,  catching  up  her 
silken  gown  ;  "  he  ha'  gev  me  this !  " 

"  And  he  pays  your  charges  here  ?  " 

"  Ay,  an'  at  school ;  't  was  thet  oi  ha'  come  for,  — 
to  be  a  scholard." 

"  To  be  sure  !  "  cried  Mercy,  with  a  sudden  and 
peculiar  change  of  tone.  "  He  thinks  of  you  as  a  child, 
then  ;  and  you  are  not  very  old  yet  ?  "  she  concluded, 
with  a  searching  glance  at  Agnes's  face. 


LIFE  AT   TILES  TON  STREET.  125 

"  Fifteen  'n'  past." 

"  I  see." 

The  visitor  looked  out  of  the  window  and  mused 
several  moments  in  silence  before  she  broke  out 
with  :  — 

"  He  has  a  dainty  way  of  talking  ;  I  like  to  hear 
him.  Does  he  talk  much  to  you  ?  " 

"  No — yes  —  not  a  gret  deal,"  answered  Agnes,  con 
scientiously  ;  "yet  he  speaks  when  ther's  occasion." 

"  It 's  no  concern  of  mine,  only  I  was  wonderin'," 
continued  the  visitor,  still  busily  looking  out  of  the 
window. 

"Eh  — ye  say?" 

"  Nothin' ;  I  was  only  wonderin'  what  he  would 
be  likely  to  talk  about  —  you  bein'  so  young,  an'  he, 
as  you  say,  a  great  lord  so." 

"  Oh,  onythin'  at  all,  loike  onybody,"  answered 
Agnes,  not  unwilling  to  continue  the  talk;  "but  'tis 
much  o'  my  singin'  he  talks  o'  late." 

"  You  —  sing  ?  " 

"  Ay,  't  is  thet  mainly  oi  'in  bein'  lor-rned,  —  to  ha' 
my  voice  tr-rained." 

"  Oh  !     Would  you  mind  singing  to  me  ?  " 

"  No,  oi  'd  not,"  returned  Agnes,  striking  up  with 
out  more  ado  a  well-known  ballad. 

"  I  'm  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mercy,  studying  the 
young  singer's  face  attentively.  "  I  know  that  tune 
myself,"  she  continued,  humming  the  air  with  catar- 
rhal  effects.  "  And  so  he  likes  that  tune,  does  he  ?  " 

"  Oi  know  not  'f  he  loike  't  or  no." 

"  But  you  said  —  " 

"  No,  'tis  my  voice  he  's  ever-r  pr-raisin'." 


126  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

"  What  do  they  do  to  your  voice  at  school  ?  " 

"  Jus'  nothiu'  but  forever-r  sol-fa-in'  'n'  mi-do-in'.  " 

"  Oh !  "  was  the  visitor's  onl}r  comment,  as  she 
still  continued  gazing  from  the  window  and  softly 
humming  the  same  air. 

Presently  there  was  heard  the  loud  slamming  of  a 
door  below,  when  she  started  hurriedly  to  her  feet, 
exclaiming :  — 

"  There  !  he  's  gone  ;  I  must  go  down." 

"  '  He '  ?  "  repeated  Agnes. 

"  The  Elder,  —  you  seen  him  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  oi  did  n't." 

"  You  will,  then,"  pursued  Mercy,  turning  at  the 
door,  "  for  "  —  she  came  across  the  room  on  tiptoe 
and  concluded  in  a  whisper  —  "  he  comes  a-courtin'." 

"  You  ?  "  asked  Agnes,  with  irrepressible  interest. 

"  No,"    returned   Mercy,    suppressing    a   sigh,  — 
"  her." 

"  Mrs.  Ruck  ?  " 

With  a  cautioning  finger  on  her  lips  the  spinster 
nodded  assent  and  slipped  silently  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE    HARPSICHOKD. 

AGNES'S  progress  in  music  was  marked  and  rapid. 
It  gladdened  the  soul  of  worthy  master  Pel- 
ham  to  find  one  among  his  pupils  who  was  gifted, 
not  only  with  a  voice  passing  sweet  and  rich,  but 
with  that  far  rarer  endowment,  musical  intuition. 
Little  indeed  did  the  complacent  tutor  suspect  that 
his  pupil  owed  her  extraordinary  advance  to  an  or 
ganization  rich  in  imagination,  ardor,  susceptibility, 
and  the  nameless  subtler  qualities  that  go  to  the 
make-up  of  an  artist,  rather  than  to  his  dry  and  con 
ventional  teachings. 

In  her  other  studies,  with  a  like  unwearied  dili 
gence,  Agnes  showed  differing  aptitudes.  She  had 
no  genius  for  spelling,  and  still  less  for  accounts  ; 
but  she  took  kindly  to  writing,  showed  touches  of 
spirit  in  her  drawings,  and  danced  with  marvellous 
elegance.  But  the  hardest  task  Master  Pelham  set 
to  himself  was  untwisting  the  br-r-r  from  her  tongue. 
Long  and  patiently  did  he  labor ;  long  and  patiently 
did  Agnes  herself  strive  to  shake  off  that  vocal  wild 
bramble  of  Marblehead. 

Daily  she  went  home  repeating  all  along  the  way 
some  obstinate  word  or  phrase.  Daily  from  her  high 
window-seat,  looking  forth  over  the  little  town,  did 


128  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

she  say  over  and  over  certain  words  and  syllables  the 
teacher  had  given  her  as  models. 

Mrs.  Shirley,  too,  kindly  lent  a  hand  in  correcting 
divers  inelegancies  of  pronunciation  and  phrasing ; 
but  Frankland  made  a  sad  blunder  when  one  day  he 
incidentally  ventured  to  play  the  pedagogue. 

"  And  how  does  my  fair  maid  of  the  Fountain  this 
morning  ?  "  he  asked  on  one  of  his  early  visits  to  the 
Widow  Ruck's. 

"  Oi  hed  a  hor-rd  toime  waitin'  so  long  to  see  ye," 
answered  Agnes,  ingenuously. 

"• '  A  hor-rd  toime,'  did  you  ?  "  he  returned,  playfully 
mimicking  her;  "and  we  shall  have  'a  hor-rd  toime,' 
I  fear,  in  getting  the  King's  English  to  run  smoothly 
from  your  tongue.  Come,  now,  let 's  have  a  les 
son,"  he  continued,  seating  himself  by  her  side. 
"  Say  hard,  my  dear  ! " 

"  No ;  'f  ye  mock  me  oi  '11  say  nothin',"  she  cried, 
suddenly  flashing  up. 

"  Tut,  tut !  I  was  but  trying  to  help  you." 
"  'F  ye  cannot  under-rston'  me,  sen'  me  bock  agin 
to  them  that  can  !  " 

"Why,  how  now,  little  one?  You  go  off  like  gun 
powder  !  "  cried  Frankland,  laughing  outright  at  this 
sudden  explosion. 

"  Oi  '11  not  stay  her'  to  be  made  a  butt  o',"  cried 
Agnes,  starting  to  her  feet,  with  tears  of  wounded 
pride  and  anger  in  her  eyes. 

"  There,  there  ;  I  most  humbly  beg  pardon  ! 
I  '11  grovel  at  your  feet ;  I  '11  cover  my  head  with 
sackcloth  and  ashes.  You  shall  be  made  a  butt  of 
no  more ;  and  if  Master  Pelham  or  Mrs.  Shirley  dare 


THE  HARPSICHORD.  129 

correct  your  speech  again  they  shall  hear  from  me,  I 
promise  you.  Sit  you  down  now,  and  I  will  dry  up 
those  salty  damp  drops  upon  your  cheek,"  cried 
Frankland,  approaching  with  his  lace  handkerchief 
and  an  air  of  mock  contrition  to  wipe  the  eyes  of  the 
indignant  girl,  while  unrestrained  merriment  still 
gleamed  in  his  own. 

"  Oi  '11  woipe  my  own  eyes  'n'  mend  my  own 
speech !  "  she  cried,  starting  away  from  him  and 
flouncing  angrily  from  the  room. 

With  a  look  of  real  concern  Frankland  called  after 
her,  striving  to  make  his  peace.  But  it  was  too  late. 
Paying  no  heed  to  his  protestations,  she  fled  upstairs 
and  took  refuge  in  her  own  room. 

Equally  interested  and  amused  by  this  unexpected 
touch  of  character,  Frankland  carefully  adjusted  his 
cocked  hat  over  a  new  peruke  and  laughed  softly 
to  himself  as  he  walked  away.  The  impression  the 
incident  made  upon  him  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact 
that  on  his  way  home  he  bought  and  sent  to  Agnes  a 
box  of  imported  comfits  as  a  peace-offering. 

Next  day,  coming  forth  from  the  great  meeting  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  where  Master  John  Lovell  had  been 
pronouncing  a  funeral  oration  upon  the  late  Peter 
Faneuil,  the  Collector  was  joined  by  Master  Pelham. 

"  And  what  did  you  think  of  the  oration  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  I  would  not  be  quoted  in  the  matter," 
answered  the  cautious  schoolmaster,  looking  around 
to  see  that  nobody  was  in  ear-shot ;  "  but  to  my  mind 
it  was  hardly  equal  to  so  great  an  occasion." 

"In  what  was  it  lacking?"  asked  the  Collector, 
amused  at  this  touch  of  professional  jealousy. 

9 


130  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  In  everything,  sir,  that  goes  to  a  great  per 
formance." 

"  But  to  come  down  to  particulars  ?  " 

"  In  form  and  substance  alike  it  was  wofully  at 
fault." 

"  In  form,  indeed,  it  may  have  come  short  of  the 
highest  Attic  elegance  ;  but  in  substance  — " 

"  Substance,  sir  !  There  was  no  substance.  He  had 
hardly  begun  and  folks  settled  themselves  to  listen, 
expecting  every  instant  to  hear  something,  when  he 
made  an  end  of  it." 

"  Yes,  it  was  perhaps  somewhat  brief,  but  delivered 
with  much  force  and  dignity." 

"Like  an  owl,  —  like  a  very  owl,  to  my  mind. 
Why,  in  France,  sir,  I  give  you  my  word,  they 
would  have  laughed  him  off  the  rostrum  for  such  an 
attempt." 

"  Hm-m-m,  pei'haps  ;  the  French  are  different ; 
but,"  continued  Frankland,  demurely,  "  't  is,  at  any 
rate,  a  great  honor  to  be  chosen  out  of  the  whole 
town  to  perform  such  an  office,  and  without  honora 
rium,  too." 

'"Without  honorarium'!  Poh,  poh!  sir,  the  town 
will  pay  dearly  for  it  in  the  end,  mark  my  words !  " 

"  How  will  that  come  about  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  answered  the  jealous  pedagogue,  quite 
unconscious  that  he  was  being  baited,  —  "this  be 
tween  ourselves,  mind  you,  —  Lovell  has  been  these 
years  past  grumbling  about  his  poor  pay." 

"  And  what  then  ?  " 

"  Now  he  will  do  what  he  has  long  been  threaten 
ing,  —  come  boldly  forward  with  a  claim  for  more 


THE  HARPSICHORD.  131 

salary,  which  the  town  cannot  with  good  grace  re 
fuse.  Mark  my  words,  I  say,  and  watch  proceedings 
at  the  next  town-meeting  !  " 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  Custom  House,  the  Col 
lector  suddenly  changed  the  subject  by  asking  how 
the  new  pupil  was  getting  on. 

Master  Pelham  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  sum 
moned  his  professional  reserve.  He  began  guardedly, 
but,  being  pushed  with  questions,  grew  more  em 
phatic  as  he  went  on  with  the  account  of  Agnes's 
progress,  and  seemed,  indeed,  fast  winding  himself 
up  to  a  pitch  of  positive  enthusiasm,  when  the  Col 
lector  was  called  away  by  a  business  summons. 

Later  in  the  day,  as  Frankland  sat  writing  in  his 
private  office,  he  was  interrupted  by  a  sudden  alter 
cation  at  the  door. 

"  You  cannot  see  him,  ma'am,"  said  the  voice  of 
his  confidential  clerk. 

"  Ther's  somebody  insoide  wi'  him,  ye  say  ?  " 

"  He  is  engaged." 

"  Wor-rkin'  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Oi  ha'  but  a  wor-rd  to  say." 

"  You  cannot  go  in,  I  tell  you  ;  I  will  deliver  any 
message  you  may  leave,  but  —  " 

"  Oi  '11  deliver  my  own  message,"  cried  Agnes, 
swinging  the  astonished  clerk  from  her  path  like  a 
feather  and  boldly  entering  the  room. 

There,  walking  straight  up  to  Frankland's  desk,  she 
said  with  flushed  cheeks  and  downcast  eyes  :  — 

"  Oi  ha'  come  to  ask  yer  por-rdon  ;  oi  wor-r  a  fool 
yester-rdoy  thet  oi  could  not  better-r  take  a  bit  o' 


132  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

funnin'.  Oi  ha'  more  sense  now  ;  oi  'm  sorry  fur-r 
what  oi  said  to  ye,  'n'  shamed  oi  am,  too,  after  a'  ye 
ha'  done  fur  me,  'n'  oi  hope  ye  '11  forgi'  me,  'n'  never-r 
be  thinkin'  oi  'm  such  an  wofu'  fool  to  get  moddened 
for  nothin'." 

Surprised  at  this  sudden  entrance  and  long,  breath 
less  apology,  Frankland  could  not  for  a  moment 
speak.  Taking  advantage  of  his  silence,  Agnes  drew 
from  her  pocket  the  box  of  comfits,  and  laying  it  on 
the  table,  said,  with  an  air  of  dignity  :  — 

"  Oi  ha'  brought  back  yer  gift ;  oi  could  not  take  it ; 
oi  wor-r  in  the  wr-rong,  'n'  ye  hed  good  worrnt  fur 
choidin'  me.  'F  oi  'd  just  cause  to  be  moddened  wi' 
ye,  't  is  not  fur  th'  loike  o'  these  oi  'd  for-rget  it ;  oi  'm 
not  a  choild  to  be  coaxed  wi'  plums." 

Whirling  about  with  these  words  she  hurried  to 
the  door  regardless  of  a  chair  which  Frankland  had 
silently  placed  for  her. 

"  Stay  !  "  he  cried  peremptorily. 

She  turned  on  the  threshold  and  hesitated  :  — 

"  They  told  me  }'e  wor-r  busy." 

"  Sit  you  down  here !  I  would  talk  with  you," 
said  the  Collector,  calmly  authoritative. 

She  came  back  with  a  shamefaced  air ;  the  impulse 
which  had  carried  her  thus  far  all  spent,  she  knew 
not  how  to  behave. 

"  I  have  been  hearing  good  reports  of  you,"  said 
the  Collector,  gravely.  "  Master  Pelham  has  just  been 
talking  with  me,  and  says  you  are  making  marvellous 
advance  in  your  music." 

"  He  told  ye  thet  ?  "  she  cried,  with  a  burst  of  de 
light  at  this  unsolicited  praise. 


THE  HARPSICHORD.  133 

"  Yes,  and  much  besides ;  he  has  great  hopes  of 
you  ;  he  thinks  you  will  do  very  much  better  yet.  He 
says  you  not  only  have  a  fine  voice  and  a  correct  ear, 
but  that  you  study  hard  and  faithfully  at  the  tasks  he 
sets  you." 

"  Oh,  ef  mother  could  but  hear-r  thet,  she  'd  be  the 
pr-roud  woman !  "  cried  the  delighted  girl,  not  yet  far 
enough  advanced  in  her  breeding  to  know  the  vulgar 
ity  of  such  a  display  of  feeling. 

"  She  shall  hear  it !  "  said  Frankland.  "  I  will 
write  her  a  letter  myself,  and  she  can  get  her  wise 
acre  of  a  parson  to  read  it." 

"  Ay,  ay,  the  minister-r  too ;  what  '11  he  say  to 
thet?" 

"  But,"  continued  Frankland,  quietly, "  Master  Pel- 
ham  says  that  in  order  to  keep  on  as  you  have  begun, 
there  is  need  you  should  have  a  harpsichord  of  your 
own,  that  you  may  practise  at  home." 

"  A  ha-arpsichor-rd  o'  my  own ! "  ejaculated 
Agnes  ;  "  the  mon  's  r-ravin' ;  his  wits  is  gone." 

A  furtive  gleam  in  his  eyes  and  a  suppressed  twitch 
ing  about  the  lips  showed  with  what  effort  Frankland 
maintained  gravity  to  reply  :  — 

"On  the  contrary,  the  good  man  seemed  tome  quite 
rational,  and  talked  with  rare  good  sense.  Moreover, 
his  commands  must  be  presently  obeyed  ;  and  noth 
ing  remains  but  to  consult  Mrs.  Ruck  to  see  in 
what  part  of  the  house  she  will  have  the  new  instru 
ment  disposed." 

"  A  ha-arpsichor-rd  o'  my  own!  "  repeated  Agnes 
to  herself,  quite  deaf  to  everything  but  that  astound 
ing  and  inconceivable  fact. 


134  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  So  pray  tell  the  good  woman  from  me,"  continued 
Frankland,  watching  the  absorbed  face  before  him 
with  covert  delight,  "  that  I  will  wait  upon  her  to 
morrow  afternoon  on  a  matter  of  business.  Mean 
time,"  he  continued,  taking  up  the  box  of  comfits, 
"  since  you  scorn  my  poor  gift  yourself,  please  bestow 
it  with  my  compliments  upon  Miss  —  Miss — What 's- 
her-name  ?  —  the  elderly  virgin  that  haunts  the  parlor 
yonder." 

"  Miss  Mer-rcy  ?  Ay,  she  will  set  gret  store  by 
'em,  too,  fur  she  's  deep  in  love  wi'  yer  honor-r  !  " 

"  The  deuce  she  is  !  "  cried  the  astonished  Collector, 
as  Agnes,  without  further  explanation,  courtesied  and 
withdrew,  murmuring  to  herself  all  the  way  home, 
over  and  over  again :  — 

"  A  ha-arpsichor-rd  o'  my  own  !  " 

Next  day,  directly  after  dinner,  Mercy  began  to 
show  signs  of  agitation.  She  came  to  her  mother 
breathlessly,  asking  if  a  fire  was  to  be  laid  in  the 
best  room. 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  the  widow,  composedly. 

Mercy  looked  shocked  and  puzzled  ;  what  could 
her  mother  mean  by  such  indifference.  Not  daring  to 
expostulate,  however,  she  glanced  critically  around 
the  keeping-room,  as  if  to  realize  its  effect  upon  a 
stranger.  As  time  wore  on,  she  grew  more  disturbed, 
wandered  aimlessly  about  the  room,  and  went  repeat 
edly  to  the  window,  glancing  now  and  then  ner 
vously  at  her  mother.  When  the  clock  struck  three, 
unable  longer  to  control  herself,  she  said,  almost 
sharply,  "  If  you  think  of  changin'  your  cap  —  " 

"I  do  not." 


THE   HARPSICHORD.  135 

"  Why,  Mother  Ruck  —  have  you  —  don't  you 
remember  ?  " 

"Eh?" 

"  He  —  that  Mr.  Frankland  's  comin'  to-day  ?  " 

"  What  if  he  be  ?    I  am  decent." 

Glancing  over  her  mother's  neat  but  well-worn 
gown  with  a  look  of  profound  mortification,  and 
feebly  stammering  an  inarticulate  protest,  Mercy 
straightway  withdrew,  as  if  to  wash  her  hands  of  all 
responsibility  in  maintaining  the  family  credit. 

Frankland  soon  arrived,  and,  to  the  chagrin  of 
Mercy,  who  was  hovering  about  the  hall  and  stair 
case  in  a  tense  state  of  curiosity,  he  shut  the  door 
behind  him  as  he  entered  the  room. 

"  My  business  with  you,  madam,"  he  began  at 
once,  after  the  exchange  of  greetings,  "  concerns 
Miss  Surriage." 

The  widow  bowed,  and  produced  some  knitting 
from  a  bag  on  her  arm. 

"  I  am  happy  to  say,"  continued  the  Collector,  by 
way  of  a  diplomatic  preface,  "  that  she  finds  herself 
content  with  you  here,  and  reports  the  fairest  treat 
ment  at  your  hands." 

"  I  am  well  pleased  to  hear  she  is  satisfied," 
returned  the  widow,  without  elation. 

*'  My  purpose  this  afternoon  is  to  ask  of  you  a 
further  favor  in  her  behalf." 

The  widow  looked  expectant,  but  did  not  com 
mit  herself  to  concessions  by  the  softening  of  a 
line. 

"Her  teacher,  Master  Pelham,  has  advised  me," 
continued  Frankland,  "  in  view  of  her  notable  prog- 


136  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ress  in  the  study  of  music,  that  she  should  have  a 
harpsichord  at  home." 

"  And  do  you  come  hither,  sir,  to  propose,"  began 
the  widow,  with  an  ominous  inflection,  "  that  I  should 
take  the  fiddling,  jig-playing  thing  into  my  house  ?  " 

"  Why,  not  quite  that,"  answered  Frankland,  diplo 
matically.  "  I  came  hither  to  confer  with  you  upon 
the  matter." 

The  widow  shifted  her  needles  with  an  air  not  very 
promising  to  the  success  of  the  petition. 

"  I  need  not  remind  you,  madam,"  continued  the 
Collector,  feeling  his  way,  "that  a  thing  is  good  or 
bad  according  to  the  way  it  is  used.  Even  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  as  you  know,  have  been  perverted  by  evil 
men  to —  " 

The  widow  made  an  impatient  move,  as  if  to  in 
terrupt,  when  her  visitor  adroitly  went  about  upon 
another  tack. 

"  Now,  as  you  seem  unacquainted  with  the  instru 
ment  in  question,  let  me  assure  you  that  'tis  not  at 
all  like  a  fiddle,  and  that  it  is  very  rarely  used  for 
playing  jigs." 

"  'T  is  nevertheless  a  begetter  of  lewd  and  sinful 
thoughts,  and  a  device  of  the  Evil  One  to  lead  men 
astray,"  interposed  the  widow,  strongly. 

"  On  the  contrary,  madam,  I  am  persuaded  't  is 
more  often  used  to  awaken  the  finer  emotions." 

"My  sober  and  respectable  roof  has  never  been 
profaned  by  any  such  invention  of  Beelzebub." 

"  It  would,  of  course,"  continued  Frankland,  calmly 
persistent,  "  be  a  just  ground  for  some  further  rate 
of  compensation." 


THE   HARPSICHORD.  137 

At  these  words,  whether  mechanically  or  by  design, 
the  Collector  drew  from  his  pocket  a  well-filled  purse 
and  passed  it  softly  from  hand  to  hand  as  he  talked. 

"  'T  is  not  a  question  of  compensation  ;  't  is  a  ques 
tion  of  resisting  temptation  and  avoiding  evil,"  an 
swered  the  widow,  looking  resolutely  away. 

"  But  I  assure  you,  madam,  this  instrument  is  now 
a  common  piece  of  furniture  in  the  best  families  all 
over  England.  Nay,  his  Excellency  the  Governor 
has  one  yonder  at  his  home  in  Roxbury." 

By  an  opportune  mischance  the  purse  slipped 
through  Frankland's  fingers  and  fell  with  a  clang  of 
golden  guineas  to  the  floor. 

"  I  have  a  daughter  to  be  considered,"  objected  the 
widow  with  subdued  emphasis. 

"  The  young  —  hem  —  the  lady  I  have  occasionally 
seen  here  ?" 

"The  same,  sir,  —  my  only  child." 

"  I  would  not  for  the  world,  madam,  be  the  means 
of  putting  temptation  in  the  way  of  any  one,"  went 
on  the  Collector,  idly  banging  the  chair-leg  in  a 
carefully  regulated  crescendo  with  the  swaying  purse. 
"  I  would  therefore  propose  that  Miss  Agnes  should 
have  the  instrument  set  up  in  her  own  room." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Frankland  prudently 
held  his  peace.  The  widow  knitted  an  entire  round 
before  saying,  reflectively,  "  If  that  could  be  done —  " 

"  Nothing  easier,  I  assure  you." 

"  It  would  of  course  make  a  difference  —  " 

Frankland  rose,  as  if  the  matter  was  concluded. 

"  But  by  no  means  reconcile  me  to  the  measure," 
concluded  the  widow  with  a  saving  clause. 


138  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

"  I  shall  not  consider  an  extra  guinea  on  the  quar 
ter's  account  an  unreasonable  charge  for  the  ac 
commodation,"  continued  the  Collector,  affecting  to 
disregard  the  foregoing. 

"  I  will  consider  of  the  matter,"  said  the  widow, 
rubbing  her  nose  with  an  uncertain  air,  as  if  not  quite 
content  with  the  result  of  the  conference. 

"  Do  so ;  and  if  I  do  not  hear  from  you  at  the  end 
of  a  week,  I  shall  take  the  libert}r  of  assuming  that 
your  decision  is  in  my  favor." 

The  retiring  Collector  was  so  busied  in  dissembling 
his  satisfaction  at  having  carried  the  point,  that  he 
failed  to  note  a  gaunt  figure  flitting  up  the  staircase 
as  he  opened  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  LESSON  IN  BEADING. 

A  LTHOUGH,  as  has  been  seen,  Agnes  promptly 
/JL  forgave  Frankland  for  his  thoughtless  mimicry, 
she  did  not  forget  it.  Wounded  to  the  quick  by  the 
thought  that  she  could  be  in  any  wise  an  object  of 
ridicule  to  him,  she  henceforth  bent  all  her  energies 
to  correct  the  uncouth  tricks  of  her  mother  tongue. 

With  tenfold  anxiety  she  now  followed  Master 
Pelham's  instructions,  noted  more  carefully  Mrs. 
Shirley's  little  hints,  watched  and  imitated  the  young 
ladies  of  fashion  she  met  at  dancing-school,  until  in 
the  course  of  time  and  by  dint  of  great  effort  she  had 
so  far  overcome  her  chief  and  most  flagrant  faults 
that  strangers  no  longer  stared  at  her  when  she 
spoke. 

She  remarked  this  herself,  and  confided  it  to  Mercy 
at  one  of  their  sittings,  which  had  now  become 
periodic.  These  were  usually  in  the  early  morning, 
when  the  widow  was  busied  following  up  her  maids, 
and  the  lodger  twisting  up  her  abundant  hair  in  the 
elaborate  mode  of  the  day ;  when,  in  fine,  the .  con 
ditions  for  comfortable  gossip  were  at  their  best. 

"  They  seemed  not  to  note  that  I  spoke  different 
from  the  others,"  said  Agnes,  describing  the  behavior 
of  some  new  acquaintances  as  she  combed  out  a 
snarl. 


140  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  They  must  have  been  wanting  in  good  manners 
had  they  seemed  to  note  it,"  answered  the  ingenuous 
but  maladroit  Mercy. 

"  '  Seemed  to  note  it '  ?  "  repeated  Agnes,  suspi 
ciously.  "  Would  you  then  make  me  believe  there  is 
still  cause  for  staring  in  my  manner  of  speech?  " 

"  Why,  for  the  matter  of  starin',  I  cannot  say  ; 
but  it  seems  not  altogether  like  other  folks'." 

"Such  as  it  is,  't '11  have  to  serve  my  turn,"  re 
plied  Agnes,  shortly. 

Seeing  that  she  had  given  offence,  Mercy  hastened 
to  change  the  subject. 

"  Oh,  but  what  think  you,  Miss  Agnes  ?  That  ill- 
lookin'  fellow  I  told  you  of  last  week  —  you  laughed 
at  me,  remember  —  has  been  hanging  about  the 
street  again,  an'  'tis  surely  this  house  he  has  his  eye 
on  ;  for  mother  found  him  leariin'  over  the  fence  last 
night  as  she  came  home  from  prayer-meetin'.  She 
would  have  demanded  his  business,  too,  but  that  the 
Elder  is  a  timorous  man  and  hurried  her  on." 

Agnes,  perplexed  with  the  adjustment  of  a  braid, 
made  no  remark. 

"  He  has  some  evil  purpose,  you  may  be  sure," 
continued  Mercy,  propitiatingly  handing  a  hairpin  ; 
"  and  if  he  be  seen  again,  mother  will  give  waruin' 
to  the  selectmen  to  send  a  constable  after  him." 

"What  should  he  want?"  asked  Agnes  in  an 
absent  tone  as  she  studied  an  effect  in  the  mirror. 

"Who  knows?  He  has  found  out  that  —  stay! 
there  's  a  loose  lock  hanging  —  that  we  are  three  lone 
women,  and  would  rob  us,  no  doubt." 

"  'T  is  more  like  he  is  some  innocent  stranger  who 


A    LESSON  IN  READING.  141 

is  wand'ring  about  to  see  the  town.  How  does  he 
look  ?  " 

"  He  has  a  villanous  air,"  continued  Mercy,  going 
mechanically  to  the  window  as  she  spoke.  "  I  tremble 
at  sight  of  him  ;  I  would  not  set  foot  outside  the  door 
for  worlds." 

Agnes  laughed  aloud  at  so  absurd  a  notion. 

"  It  must  be  a  terrible  man  would  frighten  me 
from  going  in  and  out  my  own  door.  As  for  this  one, 
I  have  not  yet  set  eyes  on  him,  but  —  " 

"  Here  he  is  now,  then !  "  cried  Mercy  with  a  little 
shriek.  "  See  the  wretch,  yonder !  "  she  continued, 
pointing  through  the  window.  "  See  him  peering  over 
the  garden  fence  and  looking  boldly  up  in  my  very 
face !  " 

Agnes  jumped  up  and  ran  eagerly  to  look  ;  but  no 
sooner  did  she  behold  the  man,  than,  uttering  a  loud 
cry,  she  rushed  from  the  room. 

Calling  after  her  in  vain,  the  astonished  Mercy 
turned  back  to  the  window  and  presently  beheld  the 
excited  lodger  rush  out  of  the  house,  up  the  garden 
path,  and  out  upon  the  street  with  her  half-dressed 
hair  floating  behind  her  in  the  breeze. 

Meantime  the  strange  man  had  disappeared,  and 
Agnes  presently  came  back  with  a  baffled  and  dis 
appointed  air,  but  offered  no  explanation  of  her 
conduct. 

For  days  afterwards,  moreover,  it  was  noted  she 
kept  an  outlook  from  the  window,  haunted  the  garden, 
and  lingered  about  the  gate  looking  wistfully  up  and 
down  the  street  in  a  way  that  excited  Mercy's  curios 
ity  to  a  painful  pitch.  Attempts  to  sound  her  upon 


142  ^AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

the  subject,  however,  proved  fruitless,  for  she  promptly 
and  bluntly  checked  the  first  insinuating  approach 
to  it. 

Meantime  the  watchful  Mercy  noted  that  the 
lodger's  demeanor  had  changed  ;  that  she  ate  her 
meals  in  silence;  that  her  eyes  often  wandered  from 
her  books  and  remained  fixed  in  an  abstracted  stare 
on  nothingness ;  that  she  no  longer  laughed  and  sang 
about  the  house  as  had  been  her  wont. 

"  She  's  got  somethin'  on  her  mind,"  said  Mercy, 
driven  to  the  extreme  resource  of  confiding  in  her 
mother. 

The  widow  was  narrowing  a  heel,  and  went  on 
with  concentration  counting  her  stitches.  Having 
finished  her  round,  ^he  shifted  her  needles,  ad 
justed  the  stationary  one  in  a  cob  at  her  belt,  and 
looked  up  with  a  blank  expression  at  her  expec 
tant  daughter. 

"  She  'd  seen  that  loaferish  man  before,  I  tell  you  ; 
she  knew  him,  as  sure  as  you  're  sittin'  there.  And, 
mother,"  continued  the  excited  spinster,  looking 
about  to  see  that  the  doors  were  shut,  "  do  you  know 
what /think?" 

Not  even  a  passing  movement  of  curiosity  disturbed 
the  repose  of  the  widow's  face  as  she  seamed  and 
narrowed  another  entire  round. 

"/think  he  was  lookin'  for  her." 

"  Fudge !  " 

Naturally  discouraged  by  such  a  reception  of  her 
surmises,  Mercy  sought  no  longer  the  maternal  con 
fidence,  but  returned  to  a  solitary  study  of  the 
situation. 


A  LESSON  IN  READING.  143 

Meantime  the  situation  speedily  became  complicated. 
One  bright  morning  shortly  after  the  disappearance 
of  the  mysterious  loafer,  Agnes  was  summoned  to  the 
doOr  to  see  a  visitor.  Her  surmise  as  to  who  it  might 
be  was  confirmed  on  the  way  down  by  finding  Mercy 
hovering  about  the  upper  landing,  craning  her  neck 
over  the  balusters. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  little  start  as  the  lodger 
came  upon  her.  "  Is  it  you?  I  happened  to  be  comin' 
up  an'  —  I  wonder  why  he  don't  come  in?" 

The  Collector  noted  Agnes's  sober  visage  directly. 
"Why,  how  now  ?"  he  cried  ;  "  whence  got  you  that 
dumpish  look  ?  Fie,  fie !  a  young  chick  like  you  with 
the  vapors !  Cheer  up !  cheer  up !  and  come  to  the 
door.  Here  is  something  to  gladden  your  eyes!" 

In  obedience  to  this  invitation  Agnes  stepped  out 
just  in  time  to  see  two  stout  serving-men  deposit  be 
fore  the  door  what  appeared  to  be  a  large  box  covered 
with  a  coarse  blanket.  She  turned  with  an  inquiring 
look  to  Frankland,  who  reached  forward  and  pulled 
off  the  blanket,  disclosing  a  fine  new  harpsichord. 

There  was  a  long  minute  of  silence.  The  Col 
lector's  face  was  beaming.  The  two  serving-men 
wore  a  broad  grin  of  expectation  ;  the  eyes  of  all  three 
were  fixed  upon  the  recipient,  who  showed  herself, 
however,  utterly  wanting  to  the  occasion.  She  stood 
dumb  before  the  beautiful  instrument;  not  a  smile, 
not  an  exclamation,  not  a  word  of  thanks  escaped  her. 
The  disappointed  Collector  was  about  to  rally  her, 
when  he  discovered  that  her  eyes  were  swimming  in 
tears.  Motioning  the  men  to  carry  the  instrument 
into  the  house,  he  put  forth  his  hand  with  a  comforting 


144  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

word  and  gently  stroked  Agnes's  head,  when  instantly 
she  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping. 

"Heyday!  what's  the  matter  now?"  he  cried,  tak 
ing  her  impulsively  in  his  arms.  "  Is  there  anything 
to  grieve  you  in  what  I  have  done  ?  " 

"No,  no,  no!"  she  sobbed  convulsively. 

"  What  afflicts  you,  then  ?     Tell  me." 

Bending  over  the  weeping  girl  to  catch  her  answer, 
Frankland  was  startled  by  a  dry  cough  overhead,  and 
looking  up  beheld  Mrs.  Ruck  gazing  at  them  from  her 
window,  with  Mercy  in  the  background  peering  over 
her  shoulder. 

Paying  no  heed  to  their  presence  save  by  a  cool 
stare,  Frankland  turned  once  more  to  Agnes  ;  but  the 
latter,  startled  by  the  ominous  cough,  flew  from  his 
embrace  and  up  the  steps,  crying  in  a  stifled  voice, — 

"  I  cannot  thank  ye  ;  ye  're  too  good  to  me  ;  ye  're 
a'  the  friend  I  have  left  in  the  world." 

Puzzled  at  this  outbreak,  Frankland  hesitated  a  mo 
ment  as  if  about  to  follow  her,  but  directly  changing 
his  purpose  turned  and  walked  thoughtfully  away. 

The  incident  was  not  without  its  effect.  To  the 
astonishment  and  bewilderment  of  Mercy,  the  lodger 
lapsed  presently  from  her  mood  of  dumps  into  one  of 
unnatural  gayety.  She  tripped  up  and  down  stairs 
on  winged  feet ;  she  filled  the  house  with  song ;  she 
was  garrulous  and  hilarious  ;  she  recklessly  left  open 
the  doors,  riotously  tracked  in  mud  upon  the  immacu 
late  floors,  and  all  the  time  went  about  blind  as  a  bat 
to  the  widow's  black  looks,  and  deaf  as  a  post  to  the 
severe  upbraidings  inflicted  upon  Mercy. 

The   widow's   worst    fears    and    misgivings   were 


A    LESSON  IN  READING.  145 

realized.  She  consistently  attributed  all  this  undisci 
plined  behavior  on  the  part  of  the  lodger  to  the 
malign  influence  of  the  harpsichord,  which  formida 
ble  instrument  of  evil  had  been  straightway  sent  up 
stairs  and  bestowed  in  the  lodger's  own  room.  Mercy, 
although  in  a  measure  sharing  her  mother's  preju 
dices,  had  other  theories  in  the  establishment  of  which 
she  found  herself  helplessly  adrift  on  a  wide  ocean  of 
conjecture. 

Frankland,  meanwhile,  concluding  very  naturally 
that  the  influences  of  the  Ruck  household  were  be 
ginning  to  weigh  too  heavily  on  Agnes's  spirits,  came 
around  the  next  day  to  take  her  off  on  a  tramp  to 
Cambridge,  whither  he  was  going  on  business.  With 
an  Englishman's  love  for  exercise,  he  chose  to  walk, 
and  Agnes,  as  he  well  knew,  could  hold  her  own 
upon  the  march. 

Delighted  with  the  invitation,  she  ran  singing  up 
stairs  to  kick  off  her  high  heels  and  slip  into  her 
walking-shoes,  and  presently  they  set  forth. 

What  with  singing  duets,  running  races,  and  wan 
dering  for  flowers,  they  found  themselves  so  heated 
and  out  of  breath  before  half  the  way  was  done 
that  they  gladly  took  advantage  of  a  shady  seat  by 
the  roadside  to  rest. 

It  chanced  to  be  a  spot  where  the  road  ran  close 
to  the  river,  which,  bordered  with  green  banks  and 
hazel  copses,  crept  away  in  sinuous  course  across  the 
marshes  to  the  sea. 

Drawing  a  long  breath  of  relief,  Frankland  threw 
himself  down  upon  the  grass,  and  presently,  with  a 
laughing  apology,  pulled  off  his  wig. 

10 


146  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Agnes  uttered  an  exclamation  at  the  change  it 
made  in  his  appearance. 

"  See  what  a  fright  I  am  !  "  he  cried,  loosening 
with  his  fingers  his  matted  light- brown  hair,  which, 
thus  tossed  about,  showed  glints  of  color  as  if  sanded 
with  gold-dust. 

"That  ye 're  not;  ye 're  far  finer  so,"  exclaimed 
Agnes,  gazing  with  admiration  at  the  comely  head 
for  the  first  time  disclosed  to  her  view.  "  I  thought 
not  ye  wor  so  young." 

"  Yes,  these  topknots  make  us  all  one  age,  and 
they  're  abominably  hot,  too  ;  but  we  should  be  hope 
less  guys  without  'em,"  said  the  Collector,  catching 
up  the  discarded  wig  upon  the  end  of  his  sword  and 
hanging  it  on  a  neighboring  branch. 

Hardly  were  they  seated  and  at  ease,  when  a  dis 
tant  cloud  of  dust  upon  the  highway  betokened  the 
approach  of  a  vehicle.  In  a  minute  more  they  made 
out  a  chariot  drawn  by  four  horses  and  attended  by 
mounted  servants  in  livery. 

"  Who  comes  here  ?  "  said  Frankland  in  a  tone  of 
annoyance.  "  A  plague  on  them,  whoever  they  be  ! 
for  now  I  must  needs  don  my  wig  ;  it  shall  never  be 
said  his  Majesty's  Collector  of  the  Customs  was  seen 
by  the  roadside  witli  a  bare  poll." 

Rising  as  he  spoke,  he  carelessly  reached  for  his 
wig  bobbing  before  him  on  the  branch.  Unhappily, 
a  chance  puff  of  wind,  contesting  the  prize,  swept 
it  from  the  tree  and  carried  it  rolling  down  the  slope 
to  the  river's  brink. 

With  a  cry  of  dismay  the  owner  sprang  after  it;  but 
before  he  had  traversed  half  the  distance  an  impish 


A   LESSON  IN  READING.  147 

zephyr  caught  up  the  big  bunch  of  snow-white  hair 
and  tossed  it  like  a  fleck  of  foam  upon  the  swiftly 
gliding  current. 

"  Agnes,  quick  !  quick  !  —  come  here,  girl !  —  catch 
it !  "  cried  the  agitated  Collector. 

The  situation,  however,  proved  to  be  one  which 
appealed  more  strongly  to  Agnes's  sense  of  humor 
than  her  sympathy.  Forgetful  of  her  habitual  re 
spect,  forgetful  of  her  great  obligation  to  her  com 
panion,  she  stood  rooted  to  the  bank,  and  with  peals 
of  irrepressible  laughter  watched  the  anxious  Col 
lector  fishing  for  his  precious  wig. 

"Eh,  sir, —  dear,  dear, — make  haste  an'  get  it! 
The  coach  is  upon  us  !  " 

"Get  a  branch!  Come  and  help!  quick!  'tis 
escaping  me  ! " 

"  An  —  an  ye  killed  me,"  cried  Agnes,  hysterically, 
"I  —  I  could  not  budge." 

"  Have  done  with  your  folly,"  called  the  Collector, 
out  of  all  patience.  "  'T  is  no  funning  matter,  I  tell 
you." 

"Here  —  here  they  come!"  cried  Agnes,  with  a 
glance  at  the  approaching  carriage.  "  'T  is  his  Ex 
cellency  himself,  wi'  some  other  grandees." 

"  D n  his  Excellency  !     'T  is  my  best  London 

Ramillies,  and  not  to  be  matched  in  the  province." 

Stirred  to  action  by  Frankland's  vexation,  Agnes 
at  last  came  staggering  down  the  slope,  almost  sob 
bing  with  laughter,  and  joined  in  the  pursuit. 

Stayed  at  last  in  its  course  by  a  projecting  snag, 
the  wig  was  caught  and  drawn  safely  to  shore. 
Meantime  his  Excellency  had  gone  thundering  past, 


148  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

too   much   engrossed  with  his  guests  to  notice  the 
wayfarers. 

"  Egad !  we  may  as  well  sit  down  again  while  it 
dries,"  said  Frankland,  shaking  the  water  from  the 
dripping  wig.  "  I  am  worse  winded  than  before." 

"  I  have  to  —  to  ask  yer  por-rdon  ;  but  —  ugh  !  — 
ugh !  —  but  I  could  n't  help  it, —  I  —  I  could  n't,  truly," 
gasped  Agnes.     "  'T  would  'a'  made  a  saint   above 
laugh  to  see  ye  wi'  —  wi'  the  bare  poll  an'  the  scared 
face,  run — runnin'  after  it  an'  splashin'  wi'  the  stick  !" 

"  Oh,  laugh  away,"  answered  Frankland,  good- 
naturedly,  as  he  threw  himself  upon  the  grass  and 
disposed  his  head  upon  a  fallen  trunk.  "  Laugh  as 
much  as  you  like,  now  I  have  back  my  wig !  " 

"  No,  I  ha'  laughed  enough,"  said  Agnes,  drawing 
out  her  handkerchief  to  wipe  her  eyes ;  "  but  ye  may 
show  ye  forgive  me  now,  an'  render  good  for  ill  by 
readin'  this  for  me,"  she  concluded,  picking  up  a  letter 
she  had  drawn  from  her  pocket  with  her  handker 
chief. 

"  Fie  !  cannot  you  read  your  own  letters  yet  ?  " 

"Ay.,  when  they  be  fairly  writ;  but  this  is  past 
makin'  out.  I  know  not  who. mother  could  ha'  got 
for  her  dark." 

Frankland  with  practised  eye  glibly  enough  read  off 
Goody  Surriage's  humdrum  account  of  domestic  af 
fairs  and  village  gossip  in  Marblehead,  and  tossed  it 
back  to  Agnes,  saying  :  — 

"Poh!  that 's  not  hard;  you  need  practice.  Here," 
he  continued,  drawing  several  letters  from  his  pocket 
and  carelessly  handing  them  over  to  her,  "  try  your 
skill  on  these." 


A   LESSON  IN  READING.  149 

Agnes  picked  up  the  fluttering  sheets,  and  opening 
the  first  which  came  to  hand,  read  without  much 
difficulty  the  following  note  :  — 

" '  Mr.  Thos.  Hancock  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr. 
Frankland,  and  requests  the  honor  of  his  company  at  supper 
on  Friday  at  six  o'clock,  post  meridian.'  " 

"  Very  fairly  done !  "  cried  the  teacher,  approvingly. 
"  Go  on  now  with  another." 

Agnes,  with  a  gratified  smile  at  the  commendation, 
next  urfolded  a  thick  and  curiously  folded  sheet  and 
began : — 

"  '  My  darling  boy —  '  " 

"  Ah  ! "  interposed  the  Collector,  laughing,  "  my 
respected  mamma  ;  there  's  good  practice  for  you  ;  no 
such  smooth  sailing  as  friend  Hancock's  note,  I  prom 
ise  you." 

"  '  Your  last  welcome  letter,'  "  continued  Agnes, 
spelling  her  way  along, '"  besides  an  assurance  of  your 
health  and  safetjr, — for  which  God  be  thanked  !  — 
brought  me  also  a  fuller  account  of  your  manner  of 
life  yonder  in  the  wilderness,  for  which  I  am  truly 
grateful.  Clearly  eno'ugh  I  see  't  is  a  barren  place, 
despite  your  tone  of  content  and  gayety,  which  is 
plainly  assumed.  Ah  !  my  son,  you  cannot  deceive 
a  mother's  instinct.  With  no  Court  life,  no  opera, 
no  theatre,  no  books,  no  pictures,  no  society,  what 
can  there  be  to  sweeten  or  support  existence  ?  'T  is 
wrong  in  me,  I  know,  to  be  thus  breeding  discontent 
in  you  with  your  surroundings,  since  for  the  present 
at  least  your  exile  seems  enforced ;  but  I  tremble 
lest  you  should  grow  so  wonted  to  your  new  life 


150  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

that  you  will  lose  all  taste  for  civilization,  and  choose 
rather  to  settle  down  yonder  in  a  semi-barbarous 
state.  I  am,  however,  somewhat  comforted  by  your 
assurance  that  I  need  have  no  feav  of  your  marrying, 
since  there  is  nobody  of  sufficient  rank  in  the  prov 
ince  to  make  you  a  wife.' ' 

The  reader  hesitated,  and  seemed  suddenly  to  find 
it  difficult  to  proceed. 

"Very  good  indeed!"  cried  the  teacher,  intent 
upon  the  lesson.  "  Go  on  !  " 

"  '  No,  my  son,'  "  continued  the  reader  with  a  pe 
culiar  change  of  tone,  "'never  make  that  mistake! 
A — marriage  —  with — an — inferior  —  would — prove 
your  —  utter  —  ruin  ! ' ' 

The  reader's  voice  faltered,  and  she  blundered  and 
stumbled  surprisingly  over  the  most  simple  words. 

"  Come,  come  !  you  grow  worse  instead  of  better!" 
cried  the  teacher,  chidingly.  "I  wonder  Master  Pel- 
ham  has  such  patience  with  you !  At  it  again,  now, 
and  see  you  do  better !  " 

"  '  It  would  not  only  put  an  end  to  your  prospects 
at  Court,  where  your  preferment  may  depend  upon  a 
happy  match,  but —  but  —  ' ' 

" '  But  —  but  — '  What 's  the  matter  now  ?  Has 
the  dear  old  lady  been  blotting  the  page?  Let  me 
see!" 

Agnes  mechanically  handed  over  the  letter. 

"Not  at  all;  'tis  in  her  best  style,  and  almost  as 
plain  as  print.  Here,  there  's  no  excuse  for  you  ;  take 
it  and  finish  !  " 

Picking  up,  with  a  passive  movement  of  obedience, 
the  sheet  tossed  back  to  her,  Agnes  went  on  :  — 


A  LESSON  IN  READING.  151 

" 'But — cost — you  —  a — noble — inheritance.  You 
know  your  uncle's  high  hopes  for  you  and  Ins  invinci 
ble  prejudices.  Last,  my  dear  son,  by  such  an  act 
you  would  break  your  mother's  heart ! ' ' 

Pausing  here  and  muttering  something  incoherent 
by  way  of  excuse,  the  reader  rose,  handed  back  the 
letter,  and  walked  rapidly  away. 

"  Eh  !  tired  so  soon !  Oh,  very  well ;  this  will  do 
for  a  beginning.  We  '11  try  again  some  other  day. 
All  you  need  is  practice.  Ugh-h-h  !  "  yawning,  and 
drawing  out  his  watch.  "  'Tis  time  we  were  moving 
on.  Take  a  look  at  my  wig,  please,  and  see  if  'tis 
dry  enough  yet !  " 

Receiving  no  answer,  and  suddenly  recalling  some 
thing  peculiar  in  his  pupil's  face  as  she  handed  back 
the  letter,  the  Collector  sprang  to  his  feet  just  in  time 
to  see  her  disappearing  around  a  distant  curve  in  the 
homeward  road. 

"  Agnes !  Why,  Agnes  !  Stay  !  —  What 's  the 
matter  ?  Ag-nes,  I  say!  Stop  !  stop  ! " 

Giving  back  neither  look  nor  word,  however, 
Agnes  held  her  course,  leaving  her  astonished  com 
panion  staring  blankly  after  her  in  the  midst  of  the 
highway. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN  OLD  FRIEND   AND  A  DISH   OF  FIGS. 

IN  running  away  from  Frankland  and  his  reading- 
lesson  Agnes  had  simply  yielded  to  blind  impulse, 
—  a  mere  physical  instinct  to  escape  from  pain,  with 
out  taking  thought  of  her  motive.  This  obtrusive 
question  came  up  presently  when  she  paused  to  take 
breath.  Dazed  to  find  herself  without  an  excuse 
that  could  be  put  into  words,  she  paused,  and  for  a 
moment  made  a  movement  to  turn  back  ;  but  directly 
breaking  loose  from  the  weak  hold  of  reason  with  a 
rebellious  cry  of  impatience,  she  whirled  about  and 
sped  on  again  at  redoubled  speed. 

It  was  just  before  nightfall  when  she  entered  the 
town.  The  streets  were  full  of  people  going  home 
from  their  work.  Many  a  curious  glance  was  cast  at 
the  agitated  girl,  as  with  burning  cheeks  and  down 
cast  eyes  she  passed  along.  Arrived  at  last  in  the 
neighborhood  of  home,  as  she  was  threading  her  way 
through  North  Street  a  rough-looking  man  suddenly 
turned  the  corner  of  an  alley  from  the  direction  of 
the  Town  Dock  and  walked  on  before  her.  There 
was  nothing  notable  in  his  appearance  save  his  un 
usual  size  and  lumbering  gait. 

At  first  Agnes  did  not  heed  him  ;  but  as  she  came 
nearer,  some  little  characteristic  trick  of  gait  or  car- 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  AND  A   DISH  OF  FIGS.  153 

riage  caught  her  eye,  when,  springing  forward,  she 
seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  cried  in  ringing  tones :  — 

"  Job  —  Job  Redden,  is  it  you  ?  " 

He  stopped  and  stood  patiently  as  with  eager  eyes 
she  scanned  his  face.  He  made  no  effort  to  avoid 
her  glance,  nor  pretence  of  not  knowing  her ;  but, 
save  for  the  look  of  recognition  which  was  as 
nearly  negative  as  it  could  be,  his  face  was  a  blank. 
Neither  surprise,  nor  joy,  nor  jealousy,  nor  anger, 
nor  a  gleam  of  any  perceptible  emotion  lighted  up 
the  heavy  immobility  of  his  features.  His  rough  hand 
lay  unresponsive  in  her  tight  grasp,  and  he  stood 
unconscious  as  a  statue  of  the  embrace  in  which  she 
held  him. 

"  Job,  Job,  I  ha'  been  long  lookin'  for  ye  !  I  saw 
ye  t'  other  day  from  the  window,  an'  well-nigh  broke 
my  neck  runnin'  down  to  catch  ye.  What  went  wi' 
ye  so  sudden  ?  I  —  I  feared  ye  'd  maybe  gone  home 
wi'out  seein'  me." 

She  paused  for  an  answering  look  or  word  of 
sympathy. 

"  Job,"  she  continued,  gazing  anxiously  into  his 
face,  "  does  anything  ail  ye,  man  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  listlessly. 

"But  do  ye  not  know  me?  It's  Ag  —  little 
Ag-" 

"Ay!" 

"  An'  is  this  the  way  to  greet  old  friends?  Ha'  ye 
no  word  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oi  wish  ye  well." 

"  Wish  me  well !  "  she  repeated,  starting  back  with 
a  flash  in  her  eye.  "  Ay,  I  hope  so ;  't  is  the  least  ye 


154  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

can  do.  I  know  not  why  ye  should  wish  me  any- 
thin'  other.  Ye  might  a'  left  that  without  sayin', 
Job  Redden,  to  one  has  known  ye  since  ye  wor'  a 
cut-tail." 

But  the  taunt  was  thrown  away  upon  the  silent 
and  impassive  man  before  her. 

"  Oh,  do  not  look  that  way  at  me  !  'T  is  better  to 
chide  'n'  blame,  as  ye  used,  than  stand  ther'  like  a 
dumb  image.  Are  ye  sick  ?  Tell  me,  an'  I  '11  ha'  ye 
cared  for !  " 

He  shook  his  head  as  before. 

"  'N'  what  then  's  the  matter,  that  the  life  'n'  soul 
is  gone  out  o'  ye,  or  are  ye  in  liquor  mebbe  ?  Job, 
ha'  ye  been  drinkin'  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  oi  'm  well  eno',"  he  said,  trying  to  free 
himself  from  her  grasp.  "  Oi  '11  be  goin'  my  way  '£ 
ye  ha'  no  errond  for  me." 

"  Errond  for  ye!"  echoed  Agnes;  "but  I  have. 
Go  tell  my  mother  ye  would  not  come  to  seek 
me  out,  but  left  me  to  find  ye  by  chance  upon 
the  highway,  an'  ye  well-nigh  broke  my  heart  wi' 
yer  hard  looks.  Go  tell  her  that  when  ye  get 
back." 

"  Oi  '11  go  back  yonder-r  no  more." 

"  '  No  more  '  ?  — 'n'  where  then  '11  ye  go  ?  " 

"  To  fur-rin  pa-ar-rts  !  " 

"  Go  for  a  sailor  —  'n'  ye  a  fisherman  born  ! " 

Job  nodded. 

"  'N'  wher'  about  in  foreign  parts  '11  ye  go  ?  " 

"  Yonder  wher'  they  fetch  th'  woine." 

"  France  ?  " 

"  Por-rtygal  they  ca'  't." 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  AND  A   DISH  OF  FIGS.  155 

Agnes  shook  her  head  ;  she  had  not  reached  that 
chapter  in  geography. 

"  An'  when  '11  ye  be  comin'  back  ?  " 

"  Whenever-r  God  wills  'n'  th'  ship  sails,  oi  'm 
thinkin',"  he  answered,  half  closing  his  eyes  with  an 
air  of  indifference. 

"  Come,  shipmate,"  cried  a  gruff  voice  behind 
them,  "  cast  loose  fro'  yer  sweetheart!  'Tis  time  to 
be  gettin'  aboard." 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  oi  'm  comin',"  answered  Job,  disen 
gaging  himself  from  Agnes's  hold,  and  turning  to 
follow  the  speaker. 

She  made  a  vague  movement  to  stop  him,  and, 
turning  pale,  caught  hold  of  a  neighboring  fence  for 
support.  There,  clinging,  she  watched  the  lumbering 
figures  out  of  sight.  There,  too,  mayhap  for  hours 
she  might  have  stood,  gazing  blankly  down  the 
vacant  street,  had  not  two  of  the  town  fence-viewers, 
worthy  Messrs.  Hopestill  Foster  and  Onesiphorus 
Tileston,  as  their  last  official  act  for  the  day,  come  to 
inspect  the  very  fence  upon  which  she  was  leaning. 
Friends  of  Mistress  Ruck,  they  recognized  and  ac 
costed  her.  Annoyed  by  their  obtrusive  questions, 
she  started  up  and  hurried  home. 

The  sudden  and  mysterious  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  lodger's  mood  during  the  few 
hours  of  her  absence  was  at  once  remarked  by 
Mercy,  who  let  her  in. 

After  a  wakeful  night  passed  in  vain  speculation 
as  to  the  cause  of  it,  she  went  up  betimes  next  morn 
ing  to  pay  the  lodger  a  visit. 

Agnes  sat  at  the  harpsichord  ;  it  was  her  hour  for 


156  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

practising.      The  spinster   paused  at  the   door   and  * 
framed  an  excuse  for  entering,  as  was  her  custom 
when  uncertain  of  her  reception. 

"  I  was  wondering  whether  maybe  you  would  like 
some  of  these,"  she  began,  extending,  as  she  spoke, 
a  dish  of  figs.  "  He  brings  'em  —  always  brings  her 
somethin',  you  know,  —  but  she"  pointing  down 
wards,  "  cannot  bear  'em  'count  of  the  dirt,  'n'  I 
always  eat  these  'n'  the  barley-candy.  Help  your 
self  !  " 

Agnes  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh,  can't  eat  while  you  're  playin'  ?  They  're 
considered  very  wholesome.  Do  you  mind  if  I  sit 
here  where  I  can  see  your  fingers?" 

Agnes  silently  assented,  and  went  on  with  her 
music.  She  was  too  well  accustomed  to  her  visitor 
to  be  disturbed. 

"  What  a  marvellous  thing  it  is  ! "  continued  the 
spinster,  gently  dusting  the  instrument  with  her 
handkerchief  as  she  talked.  "  It  must  have  cost  a 
great  store  of  money.  But  I  suppose  he  is  so  rich 
that  —  Did  you  ever  go  into  his  house  ?  " 

The  musician  shook  her  head. 

"  'T  is  said  to  be  very  grand  within  ;  all  the  furni 
ture  brought  over  from  England,  an'  such  curious 
things  picked  up  in  foreign  parts  as  were  never  seen 
here." 

The  player  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard,  and  yet 
went  on  playing  over  and  over  the  same  page  of 
music  in  a  way  that  showed  her  mind  was  not  busied 
with  the  score. 

M  One  would  soon  get  his  peck,  eatin'  figs,"  con- 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  AND  A    DISH  OF  FIGS.  157 

tinned  Mercy,  picking  over  the  fruit  upon  the  dish. 
"  And  the  seeds  are  past  numberin'.  'Tis  a  pity, — 
is  it  not?  —  a  great  pity  he  should  be  so  wild." 

The  music  lapsed  from  piano  to  pianissimo. 

"  'T  is  said  he  has '  parties  —  two  or  three  in  the 
week,  sometimes  —  when  the  lights  are  kept  flarin' 
all  night  long,  and  there  is  sound  of  much  revelry 
and  riotous  behavior  within." 

"  'Tis  no  concern  of  anybody's  what, he  has !  "  cried 
the  musician,  sharply,  coming  to  a  dead  stop. 

"  Of  course  not ;  so  it  is  n't ;  so  I  tell  mother. 
He  has  company  because  he  's  lonesome,  as  who 
would  n't  be,  livin'  all  sole  alone  in  that  big  house  ?  " 

The  music  began  again  fortissimo. 

"  I  used  to  wonder  what  he  did  it  for,"  continued 
the  spinster.  "  'T  is  so  odd  a  thing  for  a  man  to  set 
up  housekeeping  alone  ;  but,"  she  concluded,  with  a 
masterful  touch  of  finesse,  "  when  they  said  he  was 
goin'  to  be  married  —  " 

The  musician  made  a  frightful  discord. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  she  asked  sharply. 

"  Folks  say  so." 

"'Tis  a  lie  I" 

"  Oh ! " 

The  musician  rose  and  paced  the  floor  for  several 
minutes,  and  then  flung  herself  down  in  a  window- 
seat  across  the  room. 

"  He  will  never  get  married  in  America,  because," 
she  continued,  with  the  air  of  one  reciting  a  formula, 
"  there  is  nobody  of  sufficient  rank  in  the  province 
to  rilake  him  a  wife." 

Rank  ! ' "'  echoed  Mercy,  watching  intently  the 


..  . 


158  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

lodger's  changing  manner ;  "  there  be  many  here  of 
high  degree,  and  —  " 

"  '  And  '  ?  "  repeated  Agnes,  impatiently. 

"  He  may  not  stand  upon  that  point  himself." 

"  Ay,  but  he  does." 

"  How  know  you  that  ?  " 

Agnes  stared  at  this  downright  question  and  the 
speaker's  look  of  growing  intensity. 

"  They  are  his  own  words,"  she  said,  after  a  mo 
ment's  consideration,  as  if  having  made  up  her  mind 
for  some  purpose  to  continue  the  conversation. 

"  Eh  !  "  exclaimed  the  spinster  almost  breathlessly, 
as  she  moved  into  a  nearer  chair.  "He  told  you 
that?" 

«  No." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  But,"  continued  Agnes,  noting  anxiously  the  ef 
fect  of  every  word  upon  her  companion,  "  he  gave  it 
to  me  to  read  in  his  mother's  letter." 

"  You  said  '  his  own  words.' ' 

"She  was  only  repeating  them." 

"He  may  have  said  it  to  please  her." 

"You  think  so  ?  " 

The  lodger  caught  at  the  suggestion  with  a  mo 
mentary  look  of  relief,  then  shaking  her  head  doubt 
fully,  added,  — 

"  No,  —  no  ;  he  spoke  his  mind  !  " 

"  But,"  asked  Mercy,  after  a  little  pause,  during 
which  she  nervously  cracked  the  joints  of  her  fingers 
as  she  wrestled  with  the  problem,  "what  did  she 
write  about  it  for?  She  must  have  persuaded  herself 
there  was  ground  of  alarm." 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  AND  A   DISH  OF  FIGS.  159 

Agnes  turned  with  a  blank  look  as  if  slowly  recall 
ing  her  mind  from  some  other  train  of  thought. 
"  Yes ! "  she  cried  at  last  with  suddenness.  "  I 
thought  not  of  that  — yes  ;  for  she  said  that  to  marry 
one  of  lower  rank  would  ruin  him." 

"  Ruin  !  " 

"  Destroy  his  prospects,  and  —  " 

"  '  And,'  "  repeated  Mercy,  intruding  her  bony  fig 
ure  like  a  human  interrogation-point  into  the  window- 
seat  beside  Agnes. 

"  And  break  his  mother's  heart,"  concluded  Agnes, 
watching  closely  the  effect  of  her  words. 

"  Oh  !  " 

The  two  sat  looking  at  each  other  for  a  whole 
minute  in  silence. 

"  Men  mind  not  always  their  mothers'  bidding  in 
such  matters,"  suggested  Mercy  at  length. — "  You  'd 
better  try  a  fig  ;  they  come  from  Sum-yr-na,  or  some 
such  outlandish  place  where  they  seem  not  to  trouble 
themselves  about  dirt.  —  Nor  do  I  think  a  young  man 
ever  does  that  he  thinks  he  will,  or  knows,  indeed, 
what  he's  going  to  do  till  'tis  done.  My  experience 
has  not  been  great,"  she  continued,  suppressing  a  sigh 
and  choosing  another  fig,  "  but  I  suspect 't  is  a  matter 
of  touch  and  go,  when  all  is  said,  and  one  case  is 
much  like  another." 

The  tense  lines  of  the  lodger's  face  slightly  relaxed, 
and  a  little  look  of  relief  stole  over  it  as  she  listened. 

*'  Look  at  her  I "  continued  the  spinster,  wiping 
her  sticky  fingers  upon  her  apron  and  nodding  down 
wards.  "  She  knows  not  at  this  minute  what  she 
will  do  in  the  end.  She  would  never  waste  a  look 


160  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

upon  him  when  it  began,  and  gave  him  a  cold  shoulder 
for  a  long  time  ;  but  he  's  been  courtin'  these  two 
years  now,  and  'tis  my  opinion  if  he  yields  all  points 
on  the  settlement  't  will  be  a  match.  You  'd  best 
try  a  fig!" 

The  lodger  accepted  the  offer,  and  long  after  the 
spinster  was  called  away  by  a  sharp  summons  from 
below,  sat  curled  up  in  the  sun-lighted  window-seat, 
munching  figs  until  the  dish  was  finished. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

VANITY   FAIR. 

"pvTRECTLY  after  the  walk  to  Cambridge,  official 
-*-^  business  called  the  Collector  from  Boston  for 
several  weeks.  Hard  npon  his  return  there  came 
sailing  into  the  harbor  one  fine  morning  the  frigate 
"  Rose,"  of  the  Royal  Navy,  in  command  of  his  own 
younger  brother,  Captain  Thomas  Frankland. 

Welcome  enough  was  this  visit  to  the  exiled  Eng 
lishman,  and  only  too  gladly  he  undertook  —  what 
indeed  belonged  to  him  on  the  score  both  of  office 
and  kinship,  —  the  duty  of  doing  the  honors  of  the 
little  town  to  the  gallant  captain  and  his  convivial 
party  of  young  officers. 

The  task  of  finding  diversion  for  these  merry 
gentlemen,  just  escaped  from  the  confinement  of  the 
vessel  after  a  long  voyage,  proved,  however,  to  be  no 
sinecure  ;  and  what  with  these  hospitable  efforts  and 
the  discharge  of  his  daily  duties  at  the  Custom  House, 
it  will  readily  be  seen  there  was  scant  time  left  to 
bestow  upon  his  ward. 

But  Agnes  happily  knew  something  of  the  state 
of  affairs  and  surmised  much  more.  She  had  heard 
the  cannon  on  Fort  Hill  thunder  forth  a  salute  to  the 
stranger  vessel  the  morning  it  came  sailing  up  the 

11 


162  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

channel  ;  indeed,  from  her  own  chamber-window  she 
could  see  the  royal  ensign  floating  above  the  frigate 
as  it  lay  at  anchor  in  the  harbor.  She  had  read,  too, 
in  the  "  Evening  Post "  the  name  of  the  gallant  com 
mander,  and  of  his  relationship  with  the  Collector. 

As  making  clear  the  cause  of  Frankland's  absence 
and  seeming  neglect,  all  this  was  of  comfort ;  but  for 
the  rest,  there  was  something  ominous  to  Agnes  in 
this  coming  of  the  strange  vessel.  She  was  beset 
by  a  haunting  fear  —  a  feeling  too  vague  to  be  put 
into  words  by  one  not  yet  skilled  in  resolving  mental 
whys  and  wherefores  —  that  it  boded  disaster  to  her 
happiness.  Oddly  enough,  it  would  persistently  as 
sociate  itself  with  that  proud  mother's  letter,  the 
words  of  which  yet  rung  in  her  ears.  There  needs 
must  be  something  in  the  coincidence.  This  brother 
with  his  official  prestige,  his  glittering  uniform,  and 
all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  authority,  —  why 
else  had  he  come  over  the  seas  on  the  heels  of  that 
letter,  but  to  bring  back  this  wandering  sheep  to 
the  fold,  to  shut  him  in  behind  the  barriers  of  rank 
and  caste,  to  bind  him  by  new  oaths  to  the  career 
of  ambition. 

Once  admitted  to  parley,  this  fancy  carried  the 
mind  by  assault  and  drove  reason  and  judgment  out 
of  doors.  Facts  were  ignored,  experience  was  set 
at  nought.  The  work  of  the  past  —  the  long  months 
of  familiar  intercourse  which  had  reduced  him  from 
heroic  to  human  proportions  —  was  undone,  and 
Frankland  arose  once  more  before  her  imagination  as 
she  had  first  seen  him  at  the  little  inn,  a  being  of 
another  and  higher  order. 


VANITY  FAIR.  163 

Want  of  the  wholesome  corrective  of  daily  com 
panionship  had,  of  course,  much  to  do  with  this. 
As  a  vacant  room  is  invaded  by  cobwebs,  so  Agnes's 
mind,  untenanted  by  work-a-day  Fact,  was  given  over 
to  idle  Fancy.  In  the  absence  —  prolonged  now  to 
several  weeks  —  of  the  real  Frankland  she  had  let 
in  an  intruding  ideal.  The  result  as  shown  in  her 
action  was  curious. 

One  day  on  the  road  home  from  school  she  went 
out  of  her  way  to  pass  his  office.  Instead  of  her 
usual  course  through  North,  she  went  roundabout 
through  Hanover  Street.  Approaching  the  well- 
known  spot,  she  became  strangely  agitated:  her  color 
rose,  her  pulse  quickened,  her  heart  beat  furiously  as 
with  resolutely  averted  eyes  she  hurried  past,  only 
pausing  when  she  reached  the  corner  to  cast  a  wistful 
look  backward  upon  the  building  from  which,  at 
that  moment,  by  the  irony  of  chance,  the  unconscious 
Collector  was  miles  distant  on  a  pleasure  excursion 
with  his  merry  companions. 

On  another  occasion,  which  more  clearly  showed 
her  contradictory  frame  of  mind,  noting  some  com 
motion  among  the  passers-by  upon  the  street,  she 
turned  about  and  beheld  the  Collector  quite  near  at 
hand,  in  the  act  of  parting  with  some  of  his  guests. 
Their  gay  uniforms  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
populace,  and  Agnes  stood  staring  with  the  rest, 
until  suddenly,  before  she  had  warning  of  his  pur 
pose,  Frankland  whirled  around  and  came  briskly 
towards  her  along  the  street.  Pausing  not  to  note 
whether  he  saw  her,  she  turned  down  the  first  alley 
and  precipitately  fled. 


164  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

Meantime  the  presence  of  so  many  distinguished 
visitors  in  the  little  town  naturally  caused  a  stir  in 
society,  and  was  made  the  occasion  of  a  brilliant 
round  of  entertainments  ;  in  the  course  of  which,  as 
a  proof  that  she  was  not  forgotten,  Agnes  one  morn 
ing  received  a  hurried  note  from  Frankland,  enclos 
ing  an  invitation  to  a  party  at  Madame  Vassall's  in 
honor  of  the  officers  of  the  frigate. 

As  she  had  not  the  honor  of  Madame  Vassall's 
acquaintance,  and  as  she  had  never  been  to  a  party 
in  her  life,  she  could  scarcely  have  been  more  terri 
fied  if  summoned  to  execution. 

Before  she  had  time  to  recover  from  her  dismay, 
moreover,  Mrs.  Shirley  came  rolling  up  to  the  door  in 
her  coach  to  say  that  the  invitation  had  been  sent  at 
her  own  instance,  and  that  she  had  promised  Mr. 
Frankland  to  take  change  of  his  ward  and  see  that  she 
was  provided  with  a  suitable  toilet  for  the  occasion. 

"  Oh,  but,  dear  madam,  I  —  I  'm  right  glad  to  see 
ye,  as  ye  know,  V  most  beholden  I  am  for  your  kind 
offices ;  but  —  but  —  " 

"But  what,  my  dear?" 

"I  — I  'm  thinkin'  I  '11  not  go  to  the  party." 

"  Poh,  poh,  poh  !  '  Go '  I  — you  have  no  choice  in 
the  matter." 

"  I  ha'  never  yet  been  to  a  thing  like  that,  and  —  " 

"  All  the  more  need  you-  should  begin  ;  and  you 
could  not  have  a  better  opportunity." 

"But— but  I  —  " 

"Tut,  tut!  Mr.  Frankland  desires  it,  and  the 
thing  is  settled.  Never  fear,  my  dear,"  continued 
the  matron,  repressing  a  smile  at  the  consternation  in 


VANITY  FAIR.  165 

Agnes's  face  ;  "you  shall  go  in  under  my  wing,  and 
I  will  take  care  of  you." 

"  But  if  I  know  nobody,  they  '11  wonder  to  see  me, 
an'  —  " 

"  There  will  be  all  your  young  friends  of  the 
dancing-school,  —  the  Phipses,  the  Quincys,  the  Wen 
dells,  the  Cradocks,  the  Lydes,  and  the  rest.  You 
will  get  on  famously  ;  so,  now,  have  done  with 
qualms  and  scruples,  and  let  us  give  our  minds 
to  your  gown  !  " 

Silenced,  but  not  reassured,  Agnes  sat  passively 
while  the  experienced  matron  studied  her  points  and 
planned  her  toilet. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  latter  presently,  "  it  had  best 
be  of  white  satin  over  pink  brocade,  with  a  necklace 
of  pearls  —  " 

"  '  Pearls  ! '  "  echoed  Agnes,  aghast'. 

"  Yes  ;  I  will  lend  you  the  jewels  myself,  with 
pendants  to  match." 

"  Oh,  't  would  be  far  too  grand  for  me,  ma'am  !  " 

"  Not  a  whit ;  you  are  studying  to  become  a  lady  — 
so  far  as  you  may,"  concluded  the  matron  with  an 
elastic  reservation. 

"Ay,"  said  Agnes,  dubiously. 

"Remember  this,  then,  —  nothing  on  earth  can 
ever  be  too  grand  for  a  lady." 

Agnes  stood  pondering  this  overwhelming  state 
ment  in  awe-struck  silence,  until  her  visitor  exclaimed 
impatiently :  — 

"  But  come  !  Come,  my  dear,  I  have  little  time  to 
spare ;  get  on  your  hat  and  go  with  me  to  the 
mantua-maker !  " 


166  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

On  parting,  Mrs.  Shirley  stipulated  that  as  her 
own  coach  was  to  be  filled  on  the  night  of  the  party 
with  some  gentlemen  the  Governor  was  entertaining, 
Agnes  should  be  escorted  by  one  of  the  widow's 
maids,  drive  to  the  Vassalls'  in  the  Collector's  coach, 
and  await  her  corning  in  the  dressing-room. 

It  may  fairly  be  doubted  whether  Mrs.  Shirley 
would  have  suggested  so  informal  an  arrangement 
to  a  daughter  of  one  of  her  own  friends  ;  and  the  fact 
that  she  proposed  it  as  a  matter  of  course  to  Agnes 
is  significant  of  certain  distinctions  she  still  made  in 
her  case. 

As  for  the  latter,  quite  oblivious  as  yet  of  such 
subtle  shades  of  courtesy,  she  thanked  Mrs.  Shirley 
cordially  for  her  kindness,  and  went  home  with  a 
heart  full  of  gratitude  for  the  distinguished  con 
sideration  with  which  she  had  been  treated. 

If  its  effect  upon  Mercy  count  for  anything,  Agnes' s 
gown  must  have  been  a  success.  Running  upstairs, 
on  the  night  of  the  party,  to  get  a  peep  at  the 
lodger,  the  dazzled  spinster  stood  for  a  moment  dum- 
founded  before  a  vision  of  beauty  unmatched  in  her 
experience. 

"Soul  'n'  body!  Is 't  you?  I  —  I  would  never 
'a'  thought  you  could  —  Why,  't  is  —  't  is  as  fine  as 
a  picture !  Oh,  if  mother  could  be  persuaded  now 
but  to  take  one  look  at  you  !  " 

But  the  widow  was  quite  superior  to  any  such 
weakness;  for  although  she  heard  the  Collector's 
coach  presently  roll  up  to  the  door  with  great  rattle 
of  harness  and  cracking  of  whip,  although  she  heard 
the  lodger  trip  rustling  downstairs  in  her  silken 


VANITY  FAIR.  167 

finery,  —  of  which  Mercy  had  already  been  in  with 
a  breathless  account,  —  the  widow,  calmly  knitting 
at  the  window,  with  an  incredible  control  of  every 
feminine  impulse,  never  raised  her  head  to  look  out. 

Madam  Vassall  lived  in  one  of  the  finest  houses 
in  town.  Standing  on  the  spot  now  occupied  by  a 
well-known  dry-goods  shop  on  the  southern  side  of 
Summer  Street,  it  was  of  generous  proportions,  and 
built  in  the  simple  but  stately  style  of  architecture 
in  vogue  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 

As  with  a  sinking  heart  Agnes  approached  this 
notable  old-time  mansion  in  the  wake  of  a  long  line 
of  coaches,  chairs,  and  chaises,  she  had  ample  leisure 
to  study  its  details,  —  the  noble  portico  and  balcony 
over  the  front  door,  the  gambrel  roof  and  luthern 
window,  the  courtyard  paved  in  blue  and  white 
pebbles  laid  in  quaint  patterns,  the  garden  fragrant 
with  box  and  honeysuckle,  the  octagonal  surnmer- 
house  shaded  by  a  huge  English  walnut-tree,  and  the 
long  arcades  adjoining  the  stable  decorated  with 
elaborate  panel-work  and  painted  in  two  shades  of 
yellow  to  match  the  house. 

At  last  her  carriage  drew  up  before  the  entrance, 
and  Agnes,  folding  more  closely  about  her  a  mantle 
of  fleecy  Indian  drapery,  with  faltering  steps  passed 
through  the  front  door,  flung  open  by  an  expectant 
negro  slave,  and  up  the  massive  staircase  made  of 
solid  Spanish  mahogany,  —  brought  by  the  late  Leon 
ard  Vassall  from  his  estates  in  the  West  Indies,  —  to 
the  upper  hall,  where  an  antique  clock  in  an  alcove 
near  the  head  of  the  stairs  struck  six  as  she  passed 
along. 


1G8  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

In  the  dressing-room  she  found  Mrs.  Shirley  already 
arrived  and  standing  before  a  pier-glass  while  a  tur- 
baned  mulatto  maid  adjusted  her  dress. 

Barely  repressing  a  cry  of  admiration  when  Agnes 
entered,  the  matron  surveyed  the  trembling  novice 
with  a  critical  glance,  and  contented  herself  with 
saying :  — 

"  Humph !  you  will  do  very  well,  child ;  there  might 
be  a  thought  more  fulness  in  the  skirt  —  Go,  Diana, 
and  shake  it  out !  Now,  turn  about,  my  dear  !  Yes, 
yes,  you  will  do  very  well  indeed.  Did  you  see  his 
Excellency  in  the  passage  ?  " 

"  I  noted  nobody  there,"  faltered  Agnes. 

"  He  must  be  waiting  this  long  time,  and  impatient 
enough,  I  dare  say.  Hand  me  my  fan,  Diana !  Come, 
child,  let  us  go  down  !  " 

When  they  reached  the  lower  floor  Agnes  was  at 
first  dazed  and  bewildered  by  the  hum  of  voices,  the 
glare  of  lights,  and  the  splendor  of  the  scene.  Hin 
dered  by  the  crowd  as  they  made  their  slow  way 
towards  the  hostess,  she  had  time,  however,  to  recover 
her  presence  of  mind  and  look  about.  Never  before 
had  she  seen  so  beautiful  a  room.  Lofty  and  spacious, 
it  was  finished  in  the  same  costly  wood  as  the  hall, 
and  hung,  moreover,  with  rare  old  tapestry  whose 
dim  colors  formed  a  background  for  the  brilliant  and 
picturesque  dresses  of  the  company,  —  men  as  well  as 
women,  —  which  would  have  delighted  the  heart  of  a 
modern  dilettante. 

With  a  scared  yet  fascinated  look,  Agnes  clung 
close  to  her  protector,  who  from  time  to  time  laugh 
ingly  whispered  words  of  comfort  in  her  ear,  but 


VANITY  FAIR.  169 

who,  despite  all  remonstrance,  persisted  in  present 
ing  the  crowd  of  gentlemen  who  pressed  up  to  pay 
their  respects,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the  lady  of 
the  Governor. 

Agnes  could  find  little  to  say  to  these  smiling  gal 
lants  beyond  a  murmured  yes  or  no;  but  happily  their 
talk  needed  no  very  definite  answer,  and  her  silence 
doubtless  passed  for  reserve  or  hauteur.  With  Mrs. 
Shirley's  watchful  assistance  she  was  thus  getting 
along  very  fairly,  and  indeed  just  beginning  to  feel 
somewhat  at  ease,  when  presently  in  the  midst  of  the 
throng  she  saw  Frankland  making  towards  them  with 
a  tall  martial-looking  figure  on  his  arm.  Panic-seized, 
she  turned  with  a  vague  impulse  of  flight,  but  seeing 
no  way  of  escape,  and  on  the  point  of  swooning  with 
agitation,  clutched  Mrs.  Shirley  frantically  by  the 
sleeve. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?" 

But  before  she  could  answer,  Captain  Frankland 
with  a  look  of  marked  admiration  stood  bowing  before 
her.  Quite  losing  her  head  and  forgetting  all  her 
training,  Agnes  fell  back  upon  her  old  Marblehead 
dialect  as  she  stammered  forth  in  reply  to  his  elab 
orate  salutation:  — 

"  Ay,  oi  ha'  heer-rd  th'  guns  foired  fur-r  yer-r 
honor-r,  'n'  oi  ha'  seen  yer-r  ship  yonder-r  i'  th' 
hor-rbar-r  !  " 

The  Captain  stared,  and  Frankland  and  Mrs.  Shii-- 
ley  exchanged  glances.  Happily  the  music  striking 
up  made  further  conversation  unnecessar}',  and  the 
Collector,  seized  with  a  timely  inspiration,  led  his 
ward  out  to  dance.  Nothing  could  have  been  better 


170  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

adapted  to  bring  back  to  its  old  easy  footing  their 
interrupted  intercourse  than  the  chance  snatches  of 
talk  permitted  by  the  dance.  Straightway  the  heroic 
Frankland  dissolved  into  thin  air,  and  Agnes  beheld 
before  her  a  medium-sized,  florid  person,  who  uttered 
commonplaces  in  her  ear  and  was  none  too  well  skilled 
in  his  steps. 

The  effect  of  this  metamorphosis  was  wholesome. 
Gradually  all  constraint  and  discomfiture  disappeared 
from  her  manner,  and  forgetful  of  herself,  forgetful 
of  everything  but  her  present  happiness,  into  which 
in  some  way  the  cadence  of  the  music  and  the  rhyth 
mic  movement  of  the  dance  seemed  interwoven  as 
natural  components,  she  glided  through  the  familial- 
figures  of  the  minuet  in  which  Master  Pelham  had 
so  thoroughly  drilled  her,  with  the  grace  of  pure 
abandonment. 

Careless  now  of  the  company,  and  quite  uncon 
scious  of  the  growing  admiration  she  excited,  Agnes 
went  forth  again  and  again  to  the  dance,  until  in  no 
long  time  the  beauty  and  grace  of  the  Collector's 
ward  became  a  subject  of  common  comment  in  the 
room. 

Among  her  partners,  moreover,  it  is  to  be  noted, 
none  paid  her  more  marked  and  flattering  attentions 
than  the  gallant  commander  of  the  "  Rose,"  who 
would  seem  to  have  quite  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  his  first  presentation. 

Naturally  gratified  by  attentions  from  so  distin 
guished  a  man,  and  ashamed  of  the  suspicions  she 
had  harbored  against  him,  Agnes  responded  to  his 
kindness  with  the  most  generous  confidence,  and 


VANITY  FAIR.  171 

forgetful  of  all  distinctions  in  rank,  talked  to  him 
with  the  unconstraint  of  old  acquaintance.  It  was 
only  on  reaching  home  and  living  it  all  over  in  the 
solitude  of  her  own  chamber  that  she  found,  to  her 
surprise,  hovering  in  her  mental  atmosphere  a  little 
lone,  bat-like  misgiving,  which  set  up  a  desperate 
fluttering  at  every  awakened  remembrance  of  the 
bold  admiring  gaze  of  the  stranger. 

Henceforth,  either  out  of  compliment  to  the  Col 
lector  or  on  account  of  the  favorable  impression  she 
had  herself  created,  Agnes  was  included  in  all  the 
social  movements  of  the  season.  There  was  a  turtle- 
frolic  at  Cambridge,  whither  the  company  repaired  in 
chairs  and  chaises ;  a  horseback  ride  to  Medford,  to 
wait  upon  Mistress  Penelope  Royall  at  her  father's 
grand  old  mansion,  —  confiscated  at  the  Revolution, 
but  still  standing  to  this  very  day, — where,  from  divers 
soft  glances  exchanged  between  the  young  hostess 
and  handsome  Henry  Vassall,  certain  predictions  were 
hazarded  which  time  has  long  since  fulfilled  and 
history  forgotten. 

Again,  there  was  an  entertainment  at  Faneuil  Hall, 
described  in  the  "  Evening  Post "  as  a  "  Consort  of 
Music  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  of  the  town  .  .  . 
which  will  begin  at  half  an  hour  after  five  in  the 
evening.  .  .  .  Tickets,  ten  shillings  ea.'' 

Following  this  came  a  country  excursion  to  Mr. 
Quincy's  at  Milton,  where  the  whole  party  with  much 
merriment  took  part  in  catching  the  eels  they  were 
to  have  cooked  for  supper  from  the  brook  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden. 

Lastly,  as  a  wind-up  to  the  round  of  festivities,  just 


172  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

before  the  sailing  of  the  frigate  there  was  a  musical 
party  at  the  Governor's,  where,  after  much  persua 
sion,  Agnes  placed  herself  at  the  harpsichord  and 
sang  several  ballads  to  her  own  accompaniment. 
Even  Mrs.  Shirley  and  the  Collector,  who  were  aware 
of  her  vocal  powers,  were  astonished  at  the  perform 
ance  ;  while  as  for  Captain  Frankland,  who  shared 
his  brother's  musical  taste,  it  was  noted  that  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening  he  did  not  quit  the  singer's  side, 
and  on  breaking  up  was  a  long  time  in  making  his 
adieux. 

The  Collector,  with  a  coach-load  of  his  own  partic 
ular  friends,  drove  back  to  town  to  finish  the  night 
as  usual  in  Garden  Court  Street.  As  this  was  their 
last  opportunity  ashore,  the  revelry  was  prolonged 
far  into  the  morning. 

Here,  naturally  enough,  as  the  cup  circulated,  the 
music  they  had  heard  kept  running  in  their  ears. 

"Miss  Surriage  has  a  fine  voice,"  said  one,  as  he 
recalled  a  favorite  strain. 

"  Deuced  fine  !  "  chimed  in  several  others. 

"  Miss  Surriage  is  a  fine  bird  !  "  cried  the  Captain, 
raising  his  glass  ;  "and  here  's  to  her  health  !  " 

"  'Gad  !  but  she  is,"  said  the  first  speaker,  with  a 
wag  of  his  head  and  an  unctuous  emphasis.  "  She 
looked  like  a  siren  as  she  sang." 

"  And  she  is  a  siren,  too,"  retorted  the  Captain, 
emphatically,  as  he  set  down  his  empt}'-  glass. 
"  Harry,  my  boy,  you  're  a  lucky  dog  ;  were  she  not 
your  prize,  I  'd  carry  her  away  disguised  as  a  middy." 

"Never  mind  him, —  take  her  along!  A  civilian 
has  no  rights,"  shouted  a  bibulous  voice  from  the 


VANITY  FAIR.  173 

bottom  of  the  table.     "  Besides,  he  deserves  no  such 
prize  ;  he  knows  not  the  worth  of  it." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  No  more  does  he  !  The  anchorite  ! 
Not  he  !  "  came  in  a  confused  chorus  from  all  parts  of 
the  table. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Collector,  falling  in  with 
the  tone  of  the  meeting,  "  the  man  who  discovered 
this  rare  creature  and  rescued  her  from  obscurity 
may  fairly  lay  claim  to  some  merit  for  taste  and 
discernment." 

"  Ah,  but  think  how  you  treat  her,  man  !  "  rejoined 
his  brother,  growing  warmer  with  the  punch,  —  "  shut 
up  yonder  with  that  old  griffin  you  tell  of.  Why 
not  have  her  here  at  your  own  fireside  to  cheer  your 
loneliness  and  glad  you  with  her  charms  ?  " 

"  Tut,  tut  !  my  friends,"  exclaimed  the  Collector, 
shaking  his  head  deprecatingly.  "  London  manners 
and  morals  are  not  for  this  place." 

A  loud  shout  of  derision  rose  from  the  whole  party 
at  this  feeble  attempt  at  a  protest. 

"  D n  me  !  "  cried  the    Captain,  pounding  the 

table  with  his  fist,  "  if  I  don't  think  you  're  turning 
Puritan,  Hal ! " 

Overborne  by  the  bacchanalian  applause  which 
greeted  this  thrust,  the  discomfited  Collector  blushed 
to  find  how  fast  he  was  losing  metropolitan  tone  and 
polish  in  the  wilds  of  America. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  VISITOR. 

HISTORY  credits  Frankland  with  a  knowledge 
of  natural  science  among  his  other  accom 
plishments  ;  and  there  is,  indeed,  good  reason  for 
believing  that  he  had,  besides  a  respectable  acquaint 
ance  with  botany,  a  love  of  horticulture  and  much 
taste  and  skill  as  a  landscape  gardener. 

In  Agnes  he  found,  to  his  delight,  a  kindred  spirit. 
Although  brought  up  on  the  sterile  coast  of  Marble- 
head,  she  speedily  developed,  under  his  guidance,  a 
great  fondness  for  plant  life  and  growth.  This 
ripened,  with  indulgence,  into  a  genuine  passion, 
implying  capabilities  of  sacrifice  and  suffering,  — 
such  as  burning  her  fair  face  in  the  sun,  thrust 
ing  her  white  hands  into  the  dirt,  or  bending  her 
supple  back  until  it  ached,  in  the  daily  struggle  with 
weeds. 

They  had  at  first  much  ado  to  get  a  bit  of  ground  to 
till ;  but  by  the  diplomatic  gift  of  divers  rare  shrubs, 
the  widow  was  at  last  won  over  to  bestow  upon  the 
lodger  an  odd  corner  of  the  kitchen-garden. 

Directly  a  transformation  took  place  in  that  neg 
lected  corner  which  amazed  the  widow  and  Mercy. 
Instead  of  a  tangle  of  brambles  and  moribund  herbs, 
it  was  speedily  rilled  with  curious  and  beautiful 


A    VISITOR.  175 

plants,  all  in  thrifty  state  and  healthful  growth. 
Frankland,  indeed,  laid  the  world  under  contribution 
for  this  little  patch  of  soil.  Every  time  he  came  it 
was  with  some  choice  plant  or  seed  fetched  from 
abroad. 

The  enthusiasm  of  his  pupil  meanwhile  was  inspir 
ing.  Nothing  languished  under  her  care.  She  came 
gradually  to  regard  her  plants  as  a  family  of  living, 
sentient  creatures,  delicately  responsive  to  nurture, 
and  not  incapable  of  gratitude.  She  claimed  to  detect 
in  them  marks  of  individuality  and  traits  of  charac 
ter.  With  true  lover  instinct  she  puzzled  out  their 
virtues  and  foibles,  and  quite  consistently  insisted 
upon  a  lurking  vegetable  intelligence  which  prompted 
them  to  recognize  her  coming  step  in  the  morning 
and  nod  her  a  drowsy  farewell  from  their  dew-laden 
petals  at  night. 

Hers  was  the  sort  of  enthusiasm  which  grows  by 
what  it  feeds  on.  Hence  the  daily  changes  which 
took  place  in  her  little  plant-family  were  of  absorb 
ing  interest.  Every  evening  she  came  running  to 
meet  Frankland  at  the  gate,  with  a  breathless 
account  of  them. 

"  Oh,  what  think  you  now  !  —  come  and  look  !  The 
Italian  seeds  are  up :  those  with  the  outlandish  name, 
planted  next  the  hawthorn,  —  a  score  of  them,  and 
the  drollest  things,  like  little  mouths  all  open.  Yes, 
and  one  of  the  Dutch  bulbs  has  sprouted,  which  we 
thought  dead,  you  remember  ;  and  —  oh,  come  hither 
quick  and  look,  some  dreadful  creature  is  eating  up 
all  my  rose-leaves  ! " 

The  evening  was  Agnes's  gardening-time  ;  for  what 


176  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

with  her  mornings  given  up  to  the  harpsichord,  and 
the  middle  day  to  Master  Pelham,  what  other  chance 
had  she  ?  This  was  the  question  with  which  she 
triumphantly  answered  the  widow's  ohjection  that 
the  best  time  for  such  work  was  the  morning. 

"  Moreover,  you  might  then  miss  the  worshipful 
Collectors  aid,"  added  Mercy,  demurely;  "for 'tis 
said  he  lieth  abed  of  a  morning." 

Saturdays,  however,  there  was  no  task,  and  Agnes 
spent  a  long,  happy  day  among  her  flowers.  There, 
as  it  chanced,  she  was  busily  at  work  as  usual,  one 
Saturday  morning,  when,  hearing  a  click  of  the  gate- 
latch,  she  turned  about  and  saw  a  common-looking 
woman  enter  and  come  along  the  path.  Pausing 
only  to  note  that  she  was  a  stranger,  Agnes  went  on 
with  her  work. 

"  Good-day  to  ye,  miss  !  "  said  the  woman,  ap 
proaching  her. 

Agnes  sprang  to  her  feet  and  confronted  the 
stranger  with  startled  eyes. 

"  Con  ye  tell  me  'f  one  Ag  Surriage  lodge  her' 
yet,  'n'  wher'  oi  con  get  speech  wi'  her  ?  "  pursued  the 
woman,  courtesying  respectfully. 

Another  minute  and  the  astonished  stranger 
recoiled  with  a  cry  of  terror  as  Agnes,  throwing 
rake  and  priming-knife  to  the  ground,  sprang  for 
ward,  and  with  a  wild,  inarticulate  cry,  seized  her 
about  the  neck. 

"Eh,  eh  !  honds  off!  Let  go  o'  me  !  Oi  ha'  done 
no  hor-rm ! " 

"  Mother  —  mother  !  " 

"  Saunts  i'  heaven  !  " 


A    VISITOR.  177 

"Don't  ye  know  yer  own  Ag?" 

"  My  Ag  ! "  echoed  the  woman,  releasing  herself, 
and  drawing  back  to  assure  herself  of  the  astounding 
fact;  "yer  never-r  choild  o'  rnoine ! " 

"See  for  yourself!  See,  now!"  cried  Agnes, 
throwing  off  her  hat  and  looking  close  into  her 
mother's  eyes.  "  Now  am  I  your  own  child  —  now 
am  I  Ag,  or  no  ?  " 

"  Lord  help  me  !  ha'  oi  lost  my  wits  ?  Ugh  —  ugh  ! 
ye  're  takin'  my  breath.  Stond  off  a  bit  tell  oi  ha' 
another-r  look  at  ye  !  Ay,  ay,  th'  voice,  th'  oies. 
Ay,"  she  continued,  gazing  in  open-mouthed  admira 
tion,  "  cock-sur-re  'tis  our-r  Ag!  Soul  'n'  body! 
such  a  gr-rond  beauty  !  Who  'd  ever-r  thought  choild 
o'  moine  'ud  look  loike  this  !  " 

"  Tush,  tush  !     What  a  fond  old  fool  ye  're  grow 
ing  !  "  cried  Agnes,  patting  affectionately  her  mother' 
weather-beaten  cheek. 

"Such  a  whoite  face,  'n'  such  whoite  bonds, — 
gf  me  hoult  o'  'em  !  A'  glitter-rin'  wi'  r-rings,  too ! 
To  think  o't  —  yer  bein'  our-r  Ag  !  Dear-r,  dear-r, 
yer  for-rther 'd  never-r  know  ye,  lass  —  never-r,  he 
wud  n't." 

"  Father,  you  say  !  Where  is  he  ?  Did  he  come 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Not  he  ;  thet  he  did  n't ;  never-r  fear-r  him  goin' 
onywher'  fro'  home,  save  to  th'  Bonks." 

"But  he  is  well?" 

"  Ay,  borrin'  a  bit  o'  rheumatics." 

"  And  Hugh,  and  Moll  ?  " 

"  Th*  young  uns  !  —  gr-rown  up  out  o'  a'  knowin' ; 
but — eh,  ther's  none  o'  them  loike  ye,  Ag.  Wher' 

12 


178  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

got  ye  a  shape  loike  thet?  'Tis  loike  th'  figger-r  o' 
a  queen.  Gi'  me  yer  bonds  agin  —  to  think  o'  a 
choild  o'  moine  wi'  honds  loike  thet  —  ther's  no 
mor-rk  o'  toil  ther'  ! "  concluded  the  dame  in  a  tone 
of  irrepressible  pride. 

"  There  should  be,  then,  for  I  toil  here  every 
day." 

"  Oh,  ay  ;  a  leddy's  spor-rt !  "  exclaimed  the  dame, 
with  a  careless  glance  about  at  the  flowers. 

The  excitement  of  meeting  and  recognition  over, 
Agnes  took  her  mother  into  the  house  for  rest  and 
refreshment. 

"Eh,  ye  say!  —  a'  this  gr-rond  chamber-r  to  yer- 
sel' !  "  exclaimed  the  dame,  on  entering  Agnes's  room. 
"  'T  is  as  much  as  we  ha'  at  home  for  young  uns 
V  a'." 

Placing  herself  beside  her  mother  in  the  window- 
seat,  Agnes  waved  her  hand  mechanically  toward  the 
view,  improving  meanwhile  her  first  opportunity  to 
study  the  dame's  unconscious  face  with  attention. 

"  Ay,"  exclaimed  the  dame,  understanding  the 
motion,  "  berryin'  gr-run  hill  is  nowher'  'n'  nothin' 
besoide  it." 

A  troubled  look  began,  meanwhile,  gradually  to 
replace  the  expression  of  interest  with  which  Agnes 
regarded  her  mother.  Anxiously  her  eyes  wandered 
from  the  vulgar  features  to  the  ungainly  figure,  over 
the  coarse  garb,  and  down  upon  the  rough,  toil-worn 
hand  which  she  held  in  her  own. 

The  dame's  attention  meanwhile  was  once  more 
drawn  to  the  interior. 

"  Never-r   tell   me,   Ag,"   she    exclaimed    in    the 


A    VISITOR.  179 

hushed  tone  of  awe,  —  "  never-r  tell  me  ye  sleep  i' 
yon  gr-rond  bed  !  " 

The  tone  and  expression  recalled  so  vividly  her 
own  first  impression  of  the  widow's  heirloom,  that 
Agnes  burst  into  a  sudden  laugh. 

"  Ay,  but  't  was  long  before  I  could  dream  of  any 
thing  but  ghosts,  for  they  say  many  of  'em  have  died 
on  it." 

"  Oi  worrnt  ye,"  said  the  dame,  deeply  inter 
ested  ;  "  but  an  ye  wor  n't  a  fisher-r  lass  ye  'd  never-r 
climb  up  to  it  wi'out  a  ledder-r.  But  wher'  got  ye 
yon  thing?  'T  is  loike  the  music-box  at  the  Governor's 
yonder-r." 

But  the  former  look  had  crept  back  into  Agnes's 
face,  and  she  was  not  heeding. 

"Eh,  ye  say?" 

""Pis  mine,"  exclaimed  Agnes,  recalled  to  her 
self  and  pressing  her  mother's  hand  with  a  sudden 
impulse  as  if  of  apology  for  her  thought;  "and 
where  should  I  get  it  but  Mr.  Frankland  gave  it  to 
me?" 

"  '  Gev  it,'  quo'  she!  Who  ever-r  heer-rd  o'  th' 
loike !  "  exclaimed  the  dame,  approaching  the  harpsi 
chord  with  an  air  of  curiosity  and  reverence.  "  An' 
ha'  ye  lor-rned  to  mak'  it  go,  Ag  ?  " 

"  That  I  have,  well-nigh  equal  to  Master  Pelham 
himself,  they  say." 

"  Come  hither-r,  then  ;  sit  ye  down  an'  let  us 
hear  !  "  cried  the  dame,  eagerly. 

"  You  think  I  have  no  toil,  mother ;  you  little 
know  the  hard  toil  goes  to  the  learning  of  that." 

"  Oi  worrnt   it,  oi   worrnt  it ;  but  sit  ye  down ! 


180  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

sit  ye  down  !  Oi  '11  believe  nothin'  but  my  own  senses 
i'  th'  motter-r." 

Agnes  seated  herself  at  the  instrument  and  sang 
some  familiar  airs,  while  Goody  Surriage  stood  bal 
ancing  now  on  one  foot  and  now  on  the  other,  quite 
unable  to  restrain  her  delight. 

"  Eh,  eh,  thet  oi  should  live  to  see  't !  An  yer  for- 
ther-r  cud  but  hear-r  ye  !  'Tis  loike  aungels  singin' 
in  glor-ry  !  A  choild  o'  moine  too  !  Eh,  eh,  oi  '11  be 
blubber-rin'  i'  another  minit!  Oi  'd  gi'  me  last  shil- 
lin'  thet  th'  young  uns  moight  see  ye  now !  Oh,  Ag, 
Ag  !  oi  hope  'tis  not  sinfu',  lass  ;  but  me  old  her-rt  is 
fu'  o'  proide  thet  oi  ha'  borne  ye  ! " 

Agnes  rose  suddenly  and  clasped  her  mother  tightly 
in  her  arms.  Was  it  the  revolt  of  Nature  against  some 
unfilial  impulse  ?  Why  else  was  the  kiss  she  im 
printed  on  the  unsuspecting  woman's  lips  so  like  a 
caress  of  atonement?  Even  the  obtuse  fishwife 
detected  something  wrong  in  the  long-drawn  sigh 
with  which  her  daughter  at  length  walked  away  to 
the  window.  The  good  woman  would  never  have 
interpreted  it  as  a  note  of  struggle  and  penitence. 
Happily  for  her  such  a  thought  was  inconceivable. 
Physical  ills  alone  had  been  given  her  to  battle  with 
in  life.  Sordid  cares  had  choked  out  any  tender 
sproutings  of  sentiment,  and  the  healthful  sea-breezes 
blown  away  all  morbid  anxiety. 

"  Is  somethin'  th'  motter-r  wi'  ye  ?  "  she  contented 
herself  with  asking. 

"  What  should  be  the  matter  with  me?  " 

"  Nothin' ;  nothin'  i'  th'  woide  war-rid  thet  oi  can 
see,"  returned  the  dame,  easily  satisfied. 


A    VISITOR.  181 

Thus,  quite  taken  up  with  her  own  happiness  and 
in  gratifying  her  curiosity  at  the  many  novel  things 
in  her  daughter's  surroundings,  she  failed  to  remark 
the  anxious,  preoccupied  look  with  which  Agnes  sat 
conning  her  face  while  she  rehearsed  with  garrulous 
detail  the  neighborhood  news  from  Little  Harbor. 
One  speech  of  her  daughter's  the  dame  did  not 
understand. 

After  dinner,  with  the  intent  of  taking  her  mother 
out  to  see  the  town,  Agnes  put  on  a  suitable  dress 
for  the  occasion,  when  the  dame  was  thrown  straight 
way  into  new  fits  of  enthusiasm. 

"  Eh,  is  it  you  ?  Stond  yonder  ;  tur-rn  about,  now. 
So,  oi  connot  trust  my  own  soight.  Oi  thet  ha'  suck 
led  ye  at  my  own  br-reast  'ud  never-r  know  ye  for-r 
Ag  Surriage.  Eh,  but  oi  durst  not  go  for-rth  wi'  ye. 
A'  th'  folks '11  be  cryin'  out,  'Who's  th'  old  fish- 
woife  walkin'  wi'  yon  gr-rond  leddy  ? ' ' 

The  dame's  raptures  in  this  instance,  instead  of 
moving  her  laughter  as  at  first,  seemed  to  grate  upon 
Agnes's  nerves,  for  she  cried :  — 

"  Have  done,  will  you,  with  such  foolishness !  " 

"  Eh,  but  ther'  was  a  touch  o'  th'  old  Ag  for  ye ! " 
exclaimed  her  mother,  laughing. 

Goody  Surriage,  having  seized  the  opportunity  of 
coming  to  Boston  with  one  of  her  neighbors  who  had 
run  up  in  his  ketch  for  a  load  of  salt,  was  obliged 
to  return  the  same  afternoon  when  the  errand  was 
accomplished. 

Agnes  went  to  the  wharf  to  see  her  off.  The  poor 
dame  was  so  delighted  and  busied  with  her  various 
gifts  of  cast-off  clothing,  fruit,  confectionery,  pipes 


182  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

and  tobacco  for  the  old  man,  and,  best  of  all,  a 
broad  gold  piece  which  she  held  tightly  clutched  in 
her  hand,  that  she  did  not  think  of  the  parting  until 
just  as  the  ketch  was  about  to  swing  out  from  the 
dock. 

Warned  by  the  fisherman  that  the  last  moment 
had  come,  Agnes  folded  her  mother  suddenly  in  her 
arms,  kissed  her  fervently  again  and  again,  and 
stepped  quickly  over  the  gunwale  back  to  the 
wharf. 

Realizing  that  the  parting  was  over,  the  dame  broke 
into  a  loud  wail :  — 

"  Oh,  Ag,  Ag!  —  eh,  but  'tis  breakin'  my  her-rt  to 
pa-art  wi'  ye !  Oh,  my  choild,  when  be  ye comin'  back? 
When  be  ye  comin'  home  to  live  wi'  us  ?  " 

Agnes  stared  at  her  mother  a  little  wildly ;  the 
question  was  unexpected  and  startling. 

"It  cannot  surety  be  long  now,"  pursued  the  dame. 
"  Ye  ha'  lor-rned  to  play  the  music-box,  ye  sing  loike 
an  aungel,  'n'  yer  a  gret  scholard,  one  may  know 
by  yer  speech.  Ye  '11  be  comin'  soon,  eh,  — ye  '11  be 
comin'  soon,  oi  say?"  repeated  the  anxious  mother  in 
a  louder  key  as  the  boat  drifted  farther  away  and 
the  busy  fisherman  hoisted  his  sail. 

"I-       Why  I  — I  don't  — " 

Agnes  was  still  stammering  and  laboring  over  her 
answer  when  the  little  ketch  swept  out  of  ear-shot. 
She  filled  the  blank  by  waving  her  handkerchief. 
She  waved  it  vigorously,  waved  it  continuously, 
waved  it  until  her  arm  must  have  ached  to  the 
shoulder,  waved  it  indeed  until  the  little  ketch  had 
faded  to  a  mere  speck  in  the  offing  and  the  weeping 


A    VISITOR.  183 

dame  must  have  had  the  eye  of  an  Argonaut  to  dis 
tinguish  it,  and  then  turned  back  into  the  town  with 
a  fixed,  blank  look,  from  which  it  was  clear  enough 
that  her  whole  action  had  been  perfunctory. 

In  the  same  rapt  mood  she  went  home.  There  in 
the  garden  she  found  her  rake  and  pruning-knife  still 
lying  upon  the  ground  where  she  had  thrown  them 
in  the  morning,  and  mechanically  set  to  work  upon 
her  flowers. 

Directly  through  the  open  kilchen-window  close 
at  hand  came  tlie  voice  of  the  widow  putting  her 
slaves  through  their  regular  weekly  catechism.  "  Re 
member  the  Sabbath-day  to  keep  it  holy!  " 

Agnes  started  and  dropped  her  rake ;  the  sun.  had 
already  set  and  the  Lord's  Day  begun. 

Picking  up  her  tools  presently  to  go  in,  she  stood 
for  a  space  gazing  abstractedly  at  the  western  glow, 
still  [tendering  her  mother's  question. 

A  step  upon  the  gravel  drew  her  attention ;  she 
turned  and  saw  Frankland  coming  down  the  path. 

Surprise  for  a  moment  unnerved  her.  Springing 
forward  she  seized  his  hand  and  cried  impulsively: 

"  You ! " 

The  next  moment  the  rich  blood  in  a  rosy  wave 
swept  over  her  face  and  presently  retreating  left  it 
paler  than  before. 

Frankland  gazed  at  her  in  surprise.  Naturally,  he 
could  not  account  for  this  sudden  exhibition  of  feel 
ing.  For  some  reason  she  said  nothing  about  her 
mother's  visit ;  neither  did  she  talk  about  her  flow 
ers.  She  was  unusually  silent.  But  for  her  welcom 
ing  action  at  the  outset  he  might  have  thought  his 


184  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

visit  mistimed.  Thus  they  walked  up  and  down  the 
paths  in  silence  as  the  light  faded  from  the  sky. 

"  Wait ! "  she  said,  when  at  last  he  made  a  move 
to  go  ;  "  you  shall  take  some  roses  home." 

Plucking  some  generous  sprays  of  blossoms,  she 
assorted  them  as  she  went  towards  him,  thrusting 
two  or  three  discarded  buds  in  her  hair  and  bodice. 

"  Stay  !  "  he  cried,  gazing  at  her  in  admiration, 
"  you  shall  have  your  portrait  painted  in  that  very 
.guise.  You  never  looked  so  beautiful  in  your  life, 
child  !  Egad  !  "  lie  cried,  turning  her  about  toward 
the  light.  "  I  '11  go  see  old  Smybert  about  it  as  sure 
as  the  morrow  dawns.  It  shall  be  as  you  are  now, 
mind,  with  the  flowers  in  your  hair  and  neck  !  " 

"  Here  are  your  roses  !  "  murmured  Agnes,  abashed 
by  his  ardor. 

"  This  is  the  rose  I  would  fain  have  ! "  he  cried, 
suddenly  folding  her  in  his  arms.  "Agnes,  Agnes, 
darling,  I  can  do  without  you  no  longer !  " 

Overcome  by  the  suddenness  of  the  movement 
and  the  fervor  of  the  avowal,  Agnes  lay  for  a  mo 
ment  passive  in  his  arms.  Then  roused  by  a  passing 
reflection  she  struggled  for  release. 

"  No,  no  ;  you  forget  —  let  me  go  !  " 

"  You  shall  not !  " 

"  I  must  —  it  —  it  cannot  be  !  " 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"I  —  I  know  not  —  but  —  " 

She  stopped.  Back  to  her  mind  with  warning 
vividness  came  the  image  of  that  little  ketch  fading 
away  upon  the  horizon,  and  with  it  the  past  —  her 
old  life,  her  childhood's  home  —  seemed  to  fade  far, 


A    VISITOR.  185 

far  out  of  reach,  out  of  interest,  out  of  all  possible 
connection   with  her  forevermore  ;    and  in  place  of 
all,  her  heart  was  flooded  with  a  strange  new  hap 
piness  as  a  dear  voice  whispered  in  her  ear :  — 
"  Do  you  not  love  me,  Agnes  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE    PORTRAIT. 

TUST  south  of  the  Orange-Tree  inn,  which  in  the 
*^  old  days  marked  the  corner  of  Hanover  and 
Queen  Streets,  stood  John  Smybert's  studio.  It  was 
indeed  through  the  honest  old  Scotsman's  estate  that 
Brattle  Street  in  aftertimes  burst  forth  into  Scollay 
Square. 

Having  crept  into  art,  as  it  were,  through  the 
back  door,  Smybert  showed  his  right  to  remain  by 
honest  hard  work  and  sufficient  merit.  Though  a 
bit  of  a  doctrinaire  he  never  let  theories  cloud  his 
clear  vision  of  the  main  chance  ;  and  although  the 
pioneer  of  portrait  painting  in  the  New  World,  and 
the  forerunner  of  a  long  line  of  distinguished  artists 
who  have  been  born  or  found  a  home  in  Boston,  it 
is  to  be  doubted  whether  any  of  them  ever  had  a 
fuller  strong-box  or  kept  a  better  state. 

"  Ready  an'  waiting,  ye  see,"  cried  the  shrewd- 
looking  little  artist,  as  Frank! and  and  Agnes  one 
morning  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  studio.  "  Come 
ben,  come  ben  !  And  this  is  the  young  leddy,'r  he 
continued,  casting  a  professional  glance  at  his  sub 
ject.  "  Gude-day  to  ye,  miss  !  I  hope  I  see  ye  well. 
Frankland  V  I  are  auld  acquaintance,  as  ye  may 


THE  PORTRAIT.  187 

surmise.  Sit  down  till  ye  get  your  breath!  Tis  a 
braw  licht  for  a  sittin'  ;  the  domned  sun  's  a  wee  bit 
wi'drawn.  Sae,"  he  continued,  noting  Agnes's  curi 
ous  looks,  "  ye  were  ne'er  in  an  airtist's  warkshop 
afore  ;  speer  aboot ;  tak'  yer  time  an'  speer  aboot 
gin  ye  see  onything  strikes  yer  fancy!" 

"  No,  no,"  interposed  Frankland.  "  I  am  in  haste 
this  morning,  and  must  be  off,  and  I  want  the  pose 
settled  before  I  go.  Never  fear !  she  will  have  time 
enough  to  get  acquainted  with  every  crook  and 
cranny  of  your  wretched  garret  here  if  you  are  no 
more  expeditious  than  some  others  of  your  brethren 
of  the  palette." 

"  Weel,  weel,  ha'  yer  crack  at  us !  I  dinna  mind 
ye.  'Mak'  haste  slow  !'  is  a  gude  auld  savin',  V  I 
wadria  hurry  a  portrait  at  the  bidding  o'  the  King  him- 
sel'  ;  but  a'  is  in  readiness,  as  I  said  afore.  Egad, 
sir!"  he  continued,  aside  to  Frankland,  as  Agnes 
threw  off  her  wraps,  "  but  she  's  a  braw  lass  ;  I  had 
na  sic  a  subject  sin'  I  set  foot  upon  thae  shores.  — 
Please  ye  come  hither,  miss ;  here  's  wher'  I  ha'  fixed 
for  ye  to  sit,  wi'  the  licht  comin'  frae  the  side  !  Sit 
back  a  wee  bit  in  yer  chair  !  Sae !  Noo  hand  up  yer 
head  a  wee  ;  there  !  an'  -  Stay,  let  yer  hand  fa' 
o'er  th'  chair !  Noo  pu'  back  yer  sleeve  to  show 
yer  bonny  arm,  —  ay,  sae  !  Noo  haud  yer  breath  an' 
dinna  stir  till  T  tak'  a  squint  at  ye  !  Eh,  sir,"  he 
muttered  aside  to  Franklaud,  as  he  walked  to  the 
back  part  of  the  room  to  study  the  pose,  "  an  I 
could  but  strip  awa'  that  domned  flummery  o'  lace 
an'  show  a  mair  liberal  glimp.e  o'  yon  lovely  bosom, 
't  wad  be  anither  thing  a'taegither." 


188  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Were  it  not  better  she  should  be  looking  at  the 
rose  in  her  hand  ?"  asked  the  Collector,  studying  the 
subject  with  a  connoisseur  air. 

"  Na,  na,  that  wad  it  not.  I  wadna  miss  the  licht 
o'  that  ee  frae  the  canvas  for  warlds." 

"  Sit  up  a  little  straighter,  Agnes ! "  cried  out  the 
Collector,  seized  with  another  inspiration. 

"  Do  naething  o'  the  soort,  lass !  Never  mak'  a 
poker  o'  yersel  at  ony  man's  biddin'  !  Gang  yer  ain 
gait  'n'  attend  to  yer  business,  Maister  Collector,  gin 
ye  ha'  naething  better  to  offer  !  " 

Frankland  laughed  and  walked  back  and  forth 
squinting  at  the  subject  from  different  points  of  view 
while  the  busy  little  artist  adjusted  her  draperies. 

"  There,  noo,  ye  're  a'  ready,  'n'  ye  're  fit  to  be  either 
a  Venus  or  a  Madonna,  I  canna  say  whilk,"  cried  the 
painter  at  last  in  a  tone  of  great  satisfaction. 

"  Humph !  yes,"  said  the  Collector,  critically ; 
"that  will  do  very  well." 

The* artist  placed  his  easel  in  position,  arranged  his 
canvas  and  began  to  make  a  rough  crayon  sketch, 
while  the  Collector  peered  curiously  over  his  shoulder, 
looking  up  at  the  sitter  to  verify  the  truth  of  every 
stroke. 

Presently  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door.  The 
artist  muttered  a  malediction  at  the  interruption  and 
went  on  with  his  work.  A  second  and  third  time 
the  knock  was  repeated  with  increasing  force  and 
pertinacity  before  the  reluctant  Smybert  bawled  out 
in  forbidding  tones  a  summons  to  enter. 

The  door  promptly  opened,  and  an  anxious-looking 
matron  appeared  on  the  threshold.  The  painter  did 


THE  PORTRAIT.  189 

not  look  up,  yet  his  whole  person,  from  his  shoe- 
buckles  to  his  rusty  wig,  bristled  with  an  air  of  irri 
tated  recognition. 

"  Good-day  to  ye,  Misther  Smybert !  " 

"  Gude-day,  Mistress  Pelham  !  " 

"  Is  my  Johnny  here  ?  " 

"  Canna  ye  see  for  yersel',  my  gude  woman  ? " 
answered  the  artist,  impatiently. 

"  Faith,  av  he  's  not,  wher's  this  I  'm  to  sarch  for 
him,  the  botherin'  young  rogue?  Here 't  is  market- 
day,  'n'  I  wid  sorra  a  soul  to  lave  behoind  to  moind 
the  shop.  Ah, he's  the  plague  o' my  loife,  so  he  is!  " 

At  this  moment  a  suppressed  sneeze  was  heard  be 
hind  a  screen  in  the  corner.  Frankland  and  Agnes 
started.  The  artist  looked  discomfited,  and  after  a 
minute's  pause,  seeing  that  further  concealment  was 
in  vain,  with  an  affectation  of  astonishment  he  strode 
across  the  room,  and  throwing  down  the  screen  dis 
closed  a  small  boy  of  twelve  or  thirteen  perched  upon 
a  stool  busily  engaged  at  a  charcoal  drawing. 

"  Jock,  what  are  ye  doin'  hidin'  there,  ye  young 
rascal  ?  "  cried  the  artist,  peevishly.  "  Dinna  ye  hear 
yer  mither  speerin'  for  ye  ?  " 

"  Come  home  out  o'  that,  ye  bad  boy  !  "  interjoined 
the  mother.  "  It 's  takin'  all  me  toime,  it  is,  racin' 
the  sthreets  afther  ye.  Ye  '11  coome  to  no  good, 
so  ye  won't,  lavin'  yer  books  an'  yer  task  an'  wastin' 
yer  toime  wid  that  nasty  coal !  Luk  at  the  hands 
o'ye!" 

Pushing  the  reluctant  boy  before  her,  the  indig 
nant  matron  withdrew  without  the  ceremony  of 
leave-taking. 


190  AGNES  SURR1AGE. 

"  Who  are  your  friends  ?  "  asked  the  Collector  with 
an  amused  look  as  the  door  closed  on  the  pair. 

"  Little  Jock  Copley  an'  his  mither,  the  Widow 
Pelhara. 

"  To  be  sure  ;  she  that  keeps  the  tobacco-shop.  I 
take  shame  to  myself  for  not  having  recognized  the 
good  dame,  for  I  buy  all  my  snuff  of  her." 

"An'  gude  snuff  it  is,  too,"  returned  Smybert, 
taking  out  his  box,  tapping  the  lid  mechanically,  and 
offering  it  to  the  Collector  while  he  stepped  back  to 
take  a  look  at  his  work,  —  "  the  best  Maccaboy  to  be 
had  in  the  province.  Raise  yer  chin  a  wee  bit,  lass, 
an'  dinna  be  afeard  to  breathe  as  hard  as  ye  like." 

"And  so  little  Copley  is  learning  to  draw?"  con 
tinued  Frankland,  walking  over  to  inspect  the  child's 
work. 

"•  That  is  he,  that  is  he  ;  an'  hae  the  richt  stuff  in 
him,  too,  gin  his  mither  'ud  haud  off  her  hand." 

"  Egad  !  but  he  has  !  Did  the  brat  do  this  ?  "  cried 
Frankland,  eying  the  sketch  in  amazement. 

"  Every  line  o't  did  he  ;  ay,  he  's  bound  to  go 
far  ahead  o'  his  auld  maister  ane  o'  thae  days." 

"  'T  is  a  pity,  then,  I  had  not  engaged  him  for  the 
portrait,  since  he  has  the  more  talent." 

"  Gang  yer  gait !  gang  yer  gait,  Mr.  Collector ! 
ye  're  naething  but  a  disthraction  here  !  " 

"  Good  !  I  am  off,  and  only  too  glad  to  leave  you  ; 
but  when  will  this  operation  be  over  ?  " 

"  Twal  o'clock  or  ther'aboot.  I  '11  not  mak'  the 
first  sitting  o'er  lang." 

"  No  ;  three  hours  is  long  enough  in  all  conscience. 
I  will  try  to  look  in  then  and  see  how  you  get  along." 


THE  PORTRAIT.  191 

"  Dinna  pit  yersel'  oot." 

Frankland  went  away  laughing  at  this  parting  shot, 
and  the  little  painter  settled  down  to  his  work. 

"  Eh,  but  he  's  a  fine  lad,  that,"  he  said  presently, 
pausing  to  pick  a  new  brush.  "  'Tis  a  sight  for  sair 
een, —  that  bonny  face  o'  his;  an'  he  's  naebody'sfule, 
either,  is  the  Collector ;  he  hae  seen  gude  wark  at 
hame,  an'  kens  a  portrait  frae  a  sign-board." 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  sitter,  with  a  gratified  look, 
"  he  knows  a  great  deal." 

"Ay,  ay!  too  muckle  for  thae  soort  here;  ther's 
a  pair  o'  us.  We  're  like  pearls  cast  to  swine  amang 
thae  heathen  who  hae  nae  raair  notion  o'  airt  than 
the  beasts  o'  the  field.  But  he  '11  na  be  for  bidin' 
here  mony  months  langer,  I  'm  thinkin'." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  "  faltered  the  sitter. 

"  There  needs  na  prophet  to  foretell  what  onybody 
can  see  for  himsel'.  He  '11  hae  a  chaunce  yonder 
when  his  ain  pairty  coomes  in,  whilk  it's  bound  soon 
to  do.  Tut,  tut !  haud  up  yer  head,  lass  !  I  'm  wark- 
in'  on  yer  ee.  Na,  he  's  ne'er  the  lad  to  bide  here, 
wastin'  his  life  i'  the  wilderness,  when  he  can  hae 
what  he  wants  for  the  askin'  at  hame.  Gude  guide 
us!  Wher'  be  a'  yer  blithe  looks  gane?  Gin  ye  're 
weary  o'  sittin'  —  " 

"  No,  no  ! "  exclaimed  the  sitter,  straightening  up 
in  her  chair  with  a  forced  expression  of  cheerfulness. 
"  I  am  not  weary." 

"  Gude  !  sae  turn  yer  ee  a  hair's-breadth  mair  this 
way.  Richt;  noo  haud  that —  Na,  as  I  was  aboot  to 
say, the  Collector  comes  o'  auncient  stock,  frae  th'  auld 
Protector  himsel' ;  they  're  a  prood  V  stiff-necked 


192  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

race,  't  is  said,  wi'  baith  riches  'n'  power.  He 's 
the  elder  son,  too,  is  the  Collector,  —  heir  to  the  title 
on  the  death  o'  his  uncle,  an'  a  fortune,  too,  gin  he  does 
naethin'  to  mak'  th'  auld  mon  disaffected —  Ther'  ye 
go  again,  lass,  wi'  yer  head  an'  yer  ee  turned  awa' !  — 
but  gin  he  miss  the  money  he  maun  e'en  find  a  for 
tune  wi'  his  wife  —  Eh,  but  I  mout  better  gi'  o'er 
an'  hae  done  wi'  it ;  ye  look  inair  dolefu'  than  a 
tombstone." 

The  sitter  made  renewed  efforts,  but  without  avail, 
to  bring  back  her  looks  and  spirits  to  the  high  key 
with  which  they  had  started.  To  the  increasing  as 
tonishment  of  the  artist,  her  face  lapsed  into  deeper 
and  deeper  gloom. 

Thinking  perhaps  it  might  be  due  to  the  irksome- 
ness  of  sitting  still,  worthy  Smybert  allowed  his  sitter 
frequent  rests,  entertained  her  with  a  variety  of  talk, 
including  some  quaint  stories,  and  in  fine  exhausted 
his  resources,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

The  moment  she  was  released,  the  sitter  put  on 
her  bonnet  and  cloak  with  all  possible  speed,  and 
turning  to  the  amazed  painter  said  curtly  :  — 

"You  need  give  yourself  no  more  trouble  about 
that,"  pointing  to  the  canvas.  "  I  shall  never  come 
to  have  it  finished." 

"  Eh,  what 's  the  steer  noo  ?  " 

The  sitter  without  answer  tied  the  strings  of  her 
gypsy  bonnet  tightly  under  her  chin  and  turned 
to  go. 

"  Hae  I  offended  ye  ?  "  cried  the  artist  in  conster 
nation. 

"  No." 


THE  PORTRAIT.  193 

«*  What 's  ta'en  ye,  then  ?  " 
"  I  have  changed  my  mind." 

"  Chaunged  yer  min' !  Humph !  sae  ye  hae  chaunged 
yer  min'  ?  —  Weel  now,  lassie,  that  winna  do  ;  I 
hae  na  chaunged  my  min' ;  I  hae  contraicted  to  paint 
ye,  an'  we  maun  e'en  gae  on." 

"  Go  on  then  by  yourself  as  long  as  you  like  ;  you  11 
not  see  me  again !  " 

And  with  a  crisp  good-day  she  swept  from  the 
room,  leaving  the  nonplussed  artist  to  puzzle  over  the 
cause  of  her  strange  behavior. 

Coming  out  of  the  house,  Agnes  found  Frankland 
just  alighting  from  his  chaise  at  the  door.  She 
would  have  passed,  but  that  with  smiling  impera 
tiveness  he  took  her  hand  and  lifted  her  into  the 
vehicle  before  she  well  knew  what  had  happened. 

"And  how  comes  on  the  portrait?"  he  asked 
gayly. 

u  'T  is  well  enough." 

"  When  are  you  to  go  again  ?  " 

"  I  '11  go  no  more." 

"  How  now?"  he  cried,  stooping  to  peep  under  her 
bonnet.  "  Have  you  and  worthy  old  Smybert  had  a 
falling  out  ?  " 

"No." 

*'  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

"  What  did  he  say,  then  ?  That  busy  old  tongue 
of  his  is  always  wagging." 

"  It  is  nothing  to  you." 

"  Heyday  !     And  why  nothing  to  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  so  soon  to  go  away." 

13 


194  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

« Indeed ! " 

The  Collector  made  another  searching  examination 
of  the  averted  face,  and  a  look  of  intelligence  like 
a  passing  flash  of  light  swept  over  his  own. 

"  And  where  am  I  going,  pray  ?  "  he  asked  quietly 
after  a  little  pause. 

"  You  know  best  yourself." 

"  Why,  no ;  it  would  seem  that  you  arid  Smybert 
are  better  informed." 

"Are  you  not  then  soon  going  to  quit  America?" 

"  'Tis  not  unlikely  I  may,"  returned  the  Collector, 
dryly,  but  with  evanescent  flashes  of  humor  about 
the  eyes. 

"  Then  how  dare  you  make  such  a  fool  o'  me  to 
have  my  picture  painted?  "  cried  Agnes,  flashing  up 
like  tinder. 

"  Because  I  wanted  it." 

u  You  shall  never  have  it." 

"Because,"  pursued  the  Collector,  with  an  evident 
enjoyment  of  the  scene,  "  I  want  to  remember  in  after 
years  how  you  looked  when  you  were  young  — 

"  It  will  be  nothing  to  you  then  how  I  looked," 
interrupted  Agnes,  bitterly. 

"  And  besides,"  concluded  the  Collector,  quietly, 
"  it  may  be  a  consolation  to  your  mother  while  you 
are  gone." 

There  was  an  arrested  movement  in  the  bonneted 
head  to  turn  around  for  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"  For,"  he  continued,  putting  his  arm  about  her  and 
drawing  her  close  to  him,  "  whenever  I  go  and  where- 
ever  I  go,  even  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  a 
certain  other  little  person  is  to  go  with  me." 


THE  PORTRAIT.  195 

At  this  moment  the  horse  of  his  own  accord  drew 
up  before  the  widow's  door,  when  Frankland,  under 
cover  of  the  chaise-top,  gently  lifted  his  companion's 
face  for  a  farewell  kiss,  and  discovered  two  cheeks 
burning  with  shame  and  two  eyes  swimming  with 
tears  ;  and  when  the  Collector  called  after  her  as  she 
went  up  the  gravel-walk,  "  You  '11  go  like  a  good  girl 
for  another  sitting  to-morrow?"  the  crestfallen  sitter 
could  find  no  voice  for  reply,  but  turning  about  with 
downcast  eyes  and  a  shamefaced  air  courtesied  a  silent 
assent. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

MIDNIGHT    PLOTTING. 

ONE  evening  not  long  after  the  sittings  for  the 
portrait  began,  Frankland  called  with  his  horse 
and  chaise  to  take  Agnes  to  Roxbuiy.  They  went 
at  the  special  request  of  Mrs.  Shirley,  who  wanted 
her  husband  to  hear  Agnes  sing,  and  had  made  the 
engagement  the  Sunday  previous  as  she  and  Frank- 
land  were  coming  out  from  morning  service  at  King's 
Chapel. 

The  sun  had  just  set  when  they  started  ;  a  yel 
low  glow  shut  in  by  a  bank  of  clouds  lingered  above 
the  heights  at  Muddy  River,  while  far  to  the  left  the 
Blue  Hills  of  Milton  gleamed  like  amethysts  in  the 
distance.  They  took  their  time  in  going,  loitering 
almost  to  a  walk  along  the  marshy  road  that  led 
across  the  Neck,  where  the  fire-flies  twinkled  all 
about  them  in  the  neighboring  marshes  and  the 
crickets  and  tree-toads  filled  the  air  with  twilight 
clamor. 

Arrived  at  the  Governor's,  they  were  puzzled  at 
their  reception.  Mrs.  Shirley's  manner  was  distant 
and  almost  forbidding  ;  it  was  quite  clear  she  had 
forgotten  the  engagement.  Formally  civil,  of  course, 
in  her  greeting,  she  yet  bade  them  no  farther  in  than 


MIDNIGHT  PLOTTING  197 

the  ante-room,  where  she  sat  down  to  talk  with  a 
preoccupied  air  and  wandering  attention. 

"  And  where  is  his  Excellency  ?  "  asked  Franklarid. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  he  is  not  at  home,"  was  the 
guarded  answer. 

"  What  pressing  matter  can  have  taken  him  back 
to  town  to-night  ?  "  continued  the  Collector,  idly. 

"I  don't  —  that  is,  he  —  it  is  some  official  business, 
I  believe." 

Frankland  stared.  He  had  never  before  seen 
Madam  so  disconcerted ;  but  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  their  visit  was  plainly  ill-timed,  he  was  too 
much  of  an  Englishman  to  allow  himself  unjustly  to 
be  put  in  the  wrong.  He  accordingly  remarked,  quite 
pointedly,  in  reply  to  this  halting  explanation,  — 

"  His  Excellency  must  be  called  to  account  for 
running  away  when  his  lady  invites  company  out  to 
sing  to  him." 

"  His  Excellency,  unhappily,  is  not  favored  with 
the  leisure  of  some  of  his  brother  officials,  and  has 
something  more  imperative  than  music  to  attend  to," 
retorted  her  ladyship  in  a  tone  quite  too  sharp  for 
her  own  house.  She  saw  her  mistake  directly,  and 
rising  with  a  little  air  of  bustle  added  with  the  next 
breath,  "  But  that  surely  need  not  interfere  with  our 
pleasure  ;  come,  let  us  go  into  the  drawing-room ! 
Oblige  me,  Mr.  Frankland ! "  she  continued,  leading 
the  way  ;  "  open  the  harpsichord  and  bring  forth  the 
music  while  I  ring  for  more  candles  !  " 

Seeming  at  first  to  take  her  usual  interest  in  the 
music,  Mrs.  Shirley  called  for  her  favorite  pieces  and 
commended  the  performance  intelligently.  But  it 


198  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

soon  became  evident  that  it  was  only  surface  atten 
tion  she  was  giving  them,  and  that  the  core  of  her 
mind  was  profoundly  occupied  with  something  very 
different.  Absorbed  in  their  performance,  the  sing 
ers  did  not  at  first  see  this ;  it  was  only  when  Agnes, 
after  a  long  duet,  turned  about  to  discuss  some  strain 
in  it  and  discovered  her  hostess  at  the  window  in  an 
attitude  of  strained  expectation,  that  she  awoke  to 
the  situation.  With  a  woman's  sympathy  she  di 
rectly  made  a  move  to  go.  With  a  man's  obtuseness, 
Frankland  became  obstructive. 

"  Why,  we  are  but  just  come,  my  dear ;  are  you  so 
soon  tired  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  tired,"  said  Agnes  with  uncompromising 
honesty. 

"•  Then,  begging  your  pardon,  we  will  not  go." 

"  Nay,  but  we  must,"  whispered  Agnes ;  and  with 
out  another  word  she  went  straight  to  Mrs.  Shirley 
to  take  leave.  Frankland  stared  after  her,  nonplussed 
at  this  sudden  obstinacy.  Hitherto  in  social  matters 
she  had  left  him  to  take  the  lead.  He  was  quite 
inclined  to  be  vexed. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  are  going  home  for,"  he 
said  suggestively  to  Mrs.  Shirley. 

The  latter  simply  courtesied  and  thanked  him  for 
his  visit.  Whether  from  preoccupation  or  intent,  her 
manner  could  not  have  been  more  significant.  There 
was  no  room  for  another  word  on  the  part  of  the  Col 
lector,  and  he  moodily  took  his  leave. 

Coming  forth  into  the  night,  they  found  the  weather 
greatly  changed.  Thick  clouds  covered  the  whole 
sky,  and  far  or  near  there  was  not  a  gleam  of  light 


MIDNIGHT  PLOTTING.  199 

save  for  the  bobbing  lanterns  on  the  chaise,  which 
only  served  to  make  more  intense  the  outer  gloom. 

Drawn  by  a  swift  and  powerful  horse,  they  set 
forth  at  a  breakneck  pace.  The  driver,  perched  on 
a  low  seat  in  front,  held  his  mettled  beast  well  in 
hand,  but  kept  him  to  his  speed  with  the  intent  of 
getting  home  before  the  storm  broke.  Sure  of  his 
way,  he  took  little  account  of  the  condition  of  the 
road,  which  along  the  Neck  abounded  in  pits  and 
hollows.  Despite  his  own  skill  and  his  stout  vehicle, 
he  was  doomed  to  pay  the  penalty  of  his  folly ;  for, 
bounding  suddenly  over  a  high  hump  on  one  side  of 
the  road,  he  plunged  the  next  moment  into  a  deep 
rut  on  the  other,  whence,  in  trying  to  extricate  him 
self,  he  wrenched  off  a  wheel. 

With  a  loud  imprecation  on  the  man  for  his  care 
lessness,  Frankland  sprang  out  to  see  what  could 
be  done.  With  some  straps  and  cord  they  tried  to 
repair  the  broken  chaise  so  that  it  might  at  least  drag 
them  home;  but  after  a  long  time  wasted  they  aban 
doned  the  futile  effort,  arid  Frankland  bade  the  man 
make  the  best  of  his  way  back  to  Roxbuiy  for  the 
night,  while  he  and  Agnes  set  forth  on  foot  for  home. 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  a  muttering  of  thun 
der  above  their  heads  warned  them  of  the  impending 
storm.  Soon  the  lightning  came  in  blinding  flashes, 
lighting  up  the  road  for  a  long  distance  and  then 
leaving  them  to  flounder  in  pitchy  darkness. 

Next,  a  few  big  scattering  drops  rattled  round 
them  like  the  skirmishers  of  an  advancing  host  which 
itself  came  on  without  loss  of  time.  Frankland 
stripped  off  his  coat  to  put  upon  Agnes.  She  laughed 


200  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

at  the  notion,  and  they  had  a  little  quarrel  about  it, 
in  which  he  prevailed. 

What  with  the  storm  and  darkness,  it  was  late 
•when  they  reached  town.  They  were  both  drenched  ; 
but  Agnes  made  so  light  of  the  discomfort  that  Frank- 
land  could  not  complain.  They  were,  however,  glad 
enough  to  find  themselves  near  home,  for  the  rain 
was  growing  heavier  and  the  wind  momently  increas 
ing  in  violence.  Coming  from  the  north,  it  blew 
directly  in  their  faces  ;  indeed,  as  ihey  reached  the 
Province  House  such  a  gust  swept  up  Marlborough 
Street  that  they  were  fain  to  dodge  behind  the  hedge 
and  catch  their  breath.  It  was  while  crouching  in 
their  momentary  shelter  that  Frankland  noticed  a 
light  gleaming  in  the  old  mansion. 

"What's  doing  here?"  he  muttered,  as  the  light 
was  seen  to  move  from  room  to  room. 

"  They  're  opening  the  door,"  whispered  Agnes. 

"  And  the  light  has  disappeared.  Hush  !  did  you 
hear  voices  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  can  see  somebody  moving." 

"  Two  —  three,"  counted  Frankland  as  several  dark 
figures  emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  porch  and 
glided  down  the  front  steps. 

"They  're  coming  this  way,"  whispered  Agnes 
with  a  shudder;  "let  us  run!" 

"  Now  for  another  flash  of  lightning  to  make  out 
these  conspirators." 

"  They  're  close  at  hand.     Mercy  on  us  !  " 

"Hark!" 

Holding  fast  to  Frankland's  arm,  Agnes  waited  in 
terrified  suspense  as  three  figures,  wrapped  each  in  a 


MIDNIGHT  PLOTTING.  201 

long  cloak,  came  slowly  toward  them  down  the  path. 
They  stopped  near  the  gate,  and  their  voices  could 
be  plainly  heard. 

"Despatch  and  secrecy  are  indispensable.  'Tis 
dangerous  confiding  such  a  project  to  so  large  a  body  ; 
but  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  'T  is  his  Excellency  himself,"  whispered  Agnes 
with  a  gasp  of  relief. 

"  Do  it  without  'em,  then  ;  they  'd  only  obstruct  the 
business,  d n  'em  !  Rely  on  your  private  friends." 

"  Impossible  !  Men  and  money  must  be  had ; 
'twould  cost  an  immense  sum." 

"I  will  pledge  your  Excellency  my  whole  fortune, 
barring  bread  and  butter  for  my  children." 

"  Ah,  Auchmuty,  if  everybody  had  but  your  zeal !  " 

"  And  I,"  exclaimed  a  third  voice,  "  will  give  you 
X500,  and  myself  lead  a  regiment  to  the  assault." 

"Thanks,  thanks,  Gibson!  if  I  had  but  a  hundred 
men  of  your  spirit  —  " 

"There  is  Colonel  Vaughan  will  do  as  much  as 
we." 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  him  ;  you  are  a 
goodly  trio.  But  trust  me,  gentlemen;  be  guided 
by  my  experience.  This  is  a  step  too  vast  to  be  un 
dertaken  except  with  the  full  strength  and  concur 
rence  of  the  whole  province." 

"  Then  must  we  give  up  all  thought  of  a  surprise?" 

"  I  hope  not.  I  think  by  making  a  strong  appeal 
to  the  General  Court  and  impressing  upon  them  the 
absolute  need  of  secrecy,  we  may  keep  it  mum,  at 
least  until  the  expedition  is  started,  when  it  will  be 
too  late  for  the  enemy  to  call  for  succor." 


202  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  But  it  will  take  a  week  to  beat  it  into  their  beads, 
and  no  time  is  to  be  lost.  By  the  latest  advices  the 
French  fleet  is  already  under  way  ;  and  if  it  comes  in 
time  to  relieve  the  fortress,  there  is  not  force  enough 
in  the  country  to  take  the  place." 

"  Depend  upon  me  ;  no  time  shall  be  lost,"  said  the 
Governor,  firmly.  "  I  shall  call  a  secret  session  of  the 
General  Court  to-morrow,  boldly  lay  it  before  them, 
put  every  man  upon  his  honor,  make  a  strong  appeal, 
and  take  the  chances.  Meantime,  gentlemen,  much 
depends  upon  your  zeal  and  secrecy.  Let  us  hope 
for  the  best.  The  downfall  of  that  nest  of  vipers 
means  freedom  for  America.  Good-night,  good-night ! 
I  count  upon  your  loyalty  and  prudence." 

"  And  shall  not  count  in  vain,"  said  Auchmuty. 

"  Ay,"  cried  Gibson  in  a  voice  which  rose  high 
above  the  storm,  "  now  that  we  have  a  leader  worthy 
of  the  name  we  will  follow  to  the  death.  Only  set 
the  ball  in  motion  !  Lead  us  on  !  lead  us  on  !  " 

"  Sh-h  !  Stone  walls  have  ears,"  answered  the  Gov 
ernor,  cautiously.  "  Patience,  gentlemen  ;  and  depend 
on  me  to  do  all  that  man  can  do.  Good-night  again  ! " 

The  three  moved  on  and  disappeared  in  the 
darkness. 

"'Tis  against  the  French;  there  is  some  great 
expedition  on  foot,  and  I  have  not  heard  of  it,"  ex 
claimed  Frankland,  in  a  tone  of  chagrin.  "  I  will 
not  forgive  Shirley." 

"  You  !  "  cried  Agnes  in  a  startled  tone. 

"But  I  will  demand  a  commission;  he  shall  see  I 
will  have  a  hand  in  this  business  yet ! " 

"Nay,  but  you  shall  not!"  cried  Agnes  in  alarm, 


MIDNIGHT  PLOTTING.  203 

seizing  his  arm  energetically;  "'tis  against  those 
bloody  Frenchers,  an'  you  'd  never  come  off  alive. 
You  shall  not  budge  a  step  !  " 

"  Why  should  you  care  ?  "  asked  Frankland,  for 
getting  his  pique  at  the  Governor  in  gratification  at 
this  burst  of  feeling. 

"  Have  done  with  your  trifling  !  "  returned  Agnes, 
impatiently. 

"  What  matters  one  life,  more  or  less  ?  Besides,  I 
should  stand  as  good  chance  of  escape  as  another, 
and  —  " 

"Have  done,  I  say!  I  will  hear  no  more  of  it! 
Stop,  now,''  she  continued  beseechingly,  as  he  was 
about  to  interrupt. 

"  There  is  but  one  sure  way  of  stopping  my  mouth," 
he  said,  suiting  an  appropriate  action  to  the  word. 
"  Ugh-h  1  love,  your  lips  are  like  ice  ;  you  are  freezing 
out  here.  Let  us  get  home.  Come!  Come  !  " 

Once  more  breasting  the  storm,  they  made  the  best 
of  their  way  to  the  North  End.  Here,  turning  the 
corner  of  Tileston  and  Hanover  Streets,  they  came 
upon  an  officious  watchman  who  flashed  a  lantern  in 
their  faces  until  reassured  by  a  word  from  the  Col 
lector  he  passed  on,  and  the  next  moment  made  the 
welkin  ring,  crying  the  hour. 

"  Midnight !  "  Agnes  cried  aghast.  "  Father  of 
Mercies  !  it  cannot  —  it  cannot  be  midnight !  " 

"  And  what  if  it  is  ?  "  asked  Frankland,  calmly. 

"  I  could  n't  —  I  'd  never  dare  arouse  Widow  Ruck 
at  this  time  o'  night.  Oh,"  she  continued  in  tones  of 
pure  consternation,  "what  shall  I  do?  I  was  never 
up  at  such  an  awful  hour  before  !  " 


204  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

They  had  arrived  at  the  garden-gate,  and  stood 
looking  up  at  the  house  wrapped  in  silence  and  gloom. 
Holding  fast  to  Franldand's  arm,  Agnes  looked  help 
lessly  to  him  for  a  suggestion. 

Seized  by  an  impulse  as  spontaneous  as  if  caught 
from  the  electric  fluid  playing  about  them  in  the 
surcharged  air,  he  cried  :  — 

"  Leave  her,  then  !  Leave  her  now  and  forever, 
and  come  with  me  !  " 

"  You ! "  repeated  Agnes,  making  a  vague  move 
ment  to  withdraw. 

"  With  me,  where  a  home  has  long  been  waiting 
for  you.  'T  is  time  you  came  to  take  it.  Agnes," 
he  went  on,  gently  taking  her  hands,  "  wherever  we 
are  together,  there  is  home  ;  we  can  never  know  any 
other  home.  Here  —  here  is  your  real  home,  upon 
my  heart.  Come,  come,  then  !" 

"  Wh  —  I  —  what  are  you  saying?"  she  asked, 
in  a  bewildered  way.  "  It  is  midnight — it  is  rain 
ing  ;  I  must  go  in  —  " 

"  Agnes,  listen  !  God  is  witness  of  our  love  ;  God 
knows  our  hearts,  and  that  we  shall  be  faithful  to 
each  other.  Why,  then,  should  we  care  what  men 
may  think  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  care  not  what  anybody  says,  if  you  honor 
me  with  your  love." 

"  Come,  come,  then,  with  me  to  a  home  that  will 
never  be  locked  against  you,  —  to  your  own  true 
home !  " 

"  What  talk  is  this  you  hold  to  me  ?  " 

"  Agnes —  Agnes  !  "  lie  cried,  clasping  her  passion 
ately  in  his  arms,  "  I  offer  you  all  that  I  can,  —  my 


MIDNIGHT  PLOTTING.  205 

home,  my  fortune,  my  heart,  my  eternal  love,  —  all 
but  my  mere  name,  an  empty  sound." 

"  Eh  !  "  she  gasped,  struggling  to  free  herself. 

"  Nay,  listen  :  an  iron  law,  —  a  cruel,  brutal  law 
forbids  me  this ;  but  let  it  not  keep  us  apart !  Have 
pity  on  me!  Come  with  me  now  to  your  own 
home ! " 

"  Let  go  your  hold  !  "  she  cried  in  alarm.  "  Ye 
scare  me ;  't  is  the  Evil  One  is  talking !  Let  go,  I 
say!" 

Throwing  him  off  with  all  her  force,  she  ran 
swiftly  to  the  house,  and  seizing  the  ponderous  brass 
knocker  plied  it  with  frenzied  hand  until  the  whole 
neighborhood  resounded  with  the  blows. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MARS    AND    CUPID. 

NOT  many  days  went  by  before  the  town  got 
wind  of  his  Excellency's  midnight  scheme. 
For  weeks  there  had  been  mysterious  whisperings 
about  the  streets,  confidential  groups  in  the  corridors 
of  the  Town  House,  and  much  private  closeting  of 
strangers  and  officials  with  his  Excellency.  A  dozen 
fantastic  rumors  were  started,  but  nothing  definite 
was  known  until  one  morning  an  ingenuous  but 
too  zealous  member  of  the  General  Court  was  over 
heard  at  his  lodgings  loudly  invoking  the  Divine 
blessing  upon  the  purposed  expedition  against  Lo  ids- 
bo  urg. 

The  news  spread  like  wild-fire.  A  thrill  ran  through 
the  community,  a  stirring  of  the  blood  and  a  creeping 
of  the  flesh.  The  bold  were  electrified,  the  timid 
dismayed.  Wiseacres  scoffed  at  a  tale  so  incredible, 
but  were  presently  put  down  by  the  plain  facts, 
when  the  truth  was  established  beyond  peradventure 
that  the  Governor  had  been  for  months  organizing 
a  formidable  armament  against  the  famous  Gibraltar 
of  America. 

Little  by  little  the  details  leaked  out:  how  the 
Governor  had  conceived  the  plan  —  the  success  of 


MARS  AND   CUPID.  207 

which  was  destined  to  astonish  Europe  and  cover  his 
administration  with  glory  —  directly  after  the  French 
descent  upon  Canseau ;  how,  egged  on  by  Colonel 
Vaughan,  Captain  Gibson,  Judge  Auchmuty,  and  a 
few  other  bold  spirits,  he  had  sent  to  England  for 
a  co-operating  fleet,  the  advance  squadron  of  which 
had  already  arrived  in  the  West  Indies  under  the 
noted  Commodore  Warren  ;  how,  swearing  the  mem 
bers  of  the  General  Court  to  secrecy,  he  had  carried 
the  measure  through  that  reluctant  body  by  the  bare 
majority  of  a  single  vote  ;  how  he  had  appealed  to 
the  neighboring  provinces  for  men  and  money,  which 
had  been  promptly  promised  ;  and  how  at  last,  looking 
about  for  a  fit  commander  for  this  momentous  under 
taking,  he  had  pitched  upon  that  "  mighty  man  of 
Kittery,"  Colonel  William  Pepperell. 

So  well  the  secret  had  been  kept,  that  the  prepa 
rations  were  already  well  advanced,  and  the  day  for 
the  sailing  of  the  expedition  was  near  at  hand.  Now 
that  the  truth  was  known,  moreover,  all  further  dis 
guise  was  needless ;  and  the  transports  forthwith 
swarmed  into  the  harbor,  and  the  levies  into  the 
town,  which  was  thereby  speedily  filled  with  the  din 
of  final  preparation. 

Frankland,  like  the  rest,  felt  the  stir  in  his  blood, 
—  that  indefinable  exaltation  born  of  alien  impulses 
angelic  and  brutal,  the  love  of  glory  and  the  un 
tamable  animal  instinct  of  destruction.  The  fever 
took  strong  hold  of  him  ;  all  the  hereditary  yearnings 
of  his  race  —  the  old  Cromwellian  strain  —  fired  his 
heart.  He  lost  no  time  in  waiting  upon  Governor 
Shirley  to  tender  his  services.  As  it  chanced,  his 


208  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

Excellency  was  engaged,  and  could  not  be  seen  ; 
whereupon  he  promptly  despatched  a  note  offering 
the  aid  of  his  sword  and  purse. 

It  was  in  the  interval  of  doubt  and  suspense  while 
awaiting  an  answer  from  the  Governor,  that  he  be 
thought  him  of  Agnes.  Perhaps  he  suddenly  realized 
that  of  late  she  had  been  quite  crowded  out  of  her 
usual  place  in  his  thoughts  by  this  brazen  clamor  of 
war.  The  old,  old  story ;  but  if  love,  like  laws, 
must  be  silent  amid  arms,  it  can  yet,  as  the  most 
potent  and  abiding  passion,  well  afford  to  wait  its 
turn,  —  a  turn  so  sure  to  come. 

The  Collector  showed  traces  of  agitation  as  he 
approached  the  Widow  Ruck's.  He  walked  with  a 
nervous  and  rapid  step  to  the  gate,  paused,  trifled 
with  the  latch,  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  house, 
then  passed  on  to  the  corner  of  Hanover  Street. 
Presently  he  came  back,  strode  directly  up  to  the 
front  door,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  knocker. 
Again  he  hesitated,  drew  back,  and  stood  with  one 
steadfast  and  one  averted  foot,  a  picture  of  irresolu 
tion.  A  straw  turned  the  balance.  Suddenly  there 
was  heard  a  quick  step  coming  down  the  street. 
Starting  with  a  half-guilty  movement,  the  Collector 
turned,  sharply  sounded  the  knocker,  and  fell  to 
fidgeting  with  his  lace  ruffles  in  affected  nonchalance 
for  the  benefit  of  the  passer-by,  who,  however,  turned 
out  to  be  no  more  than  an  idle  boy,  who  stared  in 
differently  at  the  perturbed  official  as  he  trudged 
along. 

Mercy,  as  it  chanced,  opened  the  door,  and  at 
sight  of  him  was  thrown  straightway  into  her  usual 


MARS  AND   CUPID.  209 

state  of  trepidation,  which  was  shown  mainly  by  the 
spasmodic,  half-hysterical  noise  in  her  throat  —  sug 
gestive  of  something  between  a  laugh  and  a  cough 
—  with  which  she  interspersed  her  conversation. 

"  Oh,  —  hur-ur  !  —  't  is  you,  sir !  I  am  most  glad, 
most  —  hur-ur !  —  to  find  it  you  —  er  —  that  is,  some 
one,  any  one,  we  know  ;  for,  what  with  so  many 
strange  soldiers  in  the  town,  one  scarce  dares  — 
hur-ur !  —  open  the  door  at  all.  Will  it  please  you 
walk  in?  —  hur-ur!  —  jour  hat  you  may  bestow 
upon  the  —  er — oh!" 

Deaf  to  her  labored  greeting,  the  preoccupied  Col 
lector,  as  soon  as  she  made  way  for  him,  had  stalked 
past  her  into  the  keeping-room. 

Knowing  nothing  better  to  do,  Mercy  timidly  fol 
lowed,  and  having  by  a  dexterous  flank  movement 
placed  a  high-backed  chair  between  herself  and  any 
critical  observation,  stood  nervously  brushing  her 
apron,  smoothing  her  sparse  hair,  and  furtively  ad 
justing  her  tucker,  as  she  awaited  developments. 
The  Collector,  meanwhile,  absorbed  with  a  mental 
problem  of  his  own,  strode  up  and  down  the  room, 
hat  in  hand,  quite  oblivious  of  her  presence. 

"You  want  to  —  to  see  her,  I  suppose?"  ventured 
Mercy,  at  last,  in  a  deprecating  tone. 

The  Collector  stopped  in  his  march,  stared  at  her 
blankly  a  moment,  then  with  a  sudden  recollection  of 
himself  took  the  fluttered  spinster  by  the  hand,  and 
leading  her  with  much  ceremony  to  the  bottom  of 
the  stairs,  said :  — 

"Do  me  the  honor  to  say  to  Miss  Agnes  I  would 
speak  with  her  a  few  minutes  ! " 

14 


210  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Coming  unawares,  this  impressive  act  of  courtesy 
would  seem  to  have  rendered  Mercy  for  the  moment 
a  very  little  giddy.  She  mounted  the  stairs  as  if 
treading  upon  air,  and  was  indeed  so  quite  out  of 
herself  as  to  rush  in  upon  the  lodger  without  knock 
ing,  and  announce  in  an  excited  whisper  :  — 

"  He  is  below,  and  would  speak  with  you  ! " 

Agnes,  curled  up  in  her  favorite  window-seat  with 
her  chin  in  her  hand,  and  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
outer  view,  heeded  neither  the  intruder  nor  her 
remark. 

Mercy,  meanwhile,  had  passed  on  to  the  mirror. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  she  cried  in  a  tone  of  distress,  as  she 
surveyed  herself  with  critical  anxiety,  "  if  I  had  but 
put  on  my  spotted  lawn  this  morning !  I  had  it  in 
mind  —  this  old  gown,  too,  the  very  worst  I  have  — 
What  a  grand  way  he  has  with  him  !  He  took  me 
by  the  hand  to  the  very  stairs,  and  said,  '  Do  me  the 
honor,'  said  he,  '  to  say  to  Miss  Agnes  I  would 
speak  with  her  !  ' 

The  lodger  remained  quite  unmoved  by  this  ani 
mated  account. 

"'Tis  ever  my  luck !"  continued  the  chagrined 
Menrv,  occupied  again  with  her  toilet.  "  To  think  of 
my  having  on  this  old  taffeta,  which  would  long  since 
have  been  cast  to  the  rag-bag  but  for  mother  —  she 
—  I  only  hope  he  marked  not  the  darning  of  the 
sleeves  !  Think  you  he  could  see  them  ?  " 

Receiving  no  answer,  the  spinster's  mind  was 
recalled  to  her  errand. 

"  What!  did  you  not  hear?  He  wants  to  see  you, 
I  say." 


MARS  AND   CUPID.  211 

"I  shall  not  go  down." 

"  But  he  sent  for  you  himself,  —  he  bade  me 
saj-" 

"  I  shall  not  go  down." 

"  Why,  you  need  not  fear ;  your  gown  is  fine 
enough  for  anybody;  and,"  continued  the  persistent 
messenger,  with  a  critical  glance  at  the  lodger, 
"  there  's  not  a  lock  of  your  head  astray." 

Even  this  kindly  encouragement  failed  of  effect. 
Mercy  was  puzzled.  With  some  experience  of  the 
lodger's  moods,  she  went  over  to  the  window-seat  and 
anxiously  studied  the  averted  face.  It  evidently  did 
not  prove  easy  reading. 

"  What  shall  I  say  ?  'T  is  most  awkward  to  keep 
him  waiting  thus." 

"  Say  I  shall  not  go  down  !  " 

'*  But  you  —  There  's  nothing  the  matter,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  What  pretext,  then,  can  I  offer?  " 

"  None." 

"  Eh  ?  —  you  will  never  —  you  cannot  send  a  word 
like  that  to  him !  No  reason  ?  'T  would  be  most 
unmannerly.  And  after  all  his  kindness  to  you  — " 

The  lodger  violently  changed  her  position. 

"  He  —  of  course  he  would  be  angered,  and  he  is 
in  a  most  gracious  vein  this  morning.  If  you  could 
but  have  seen  him  when  he  —  " 

"  Go  away  !  " 

Shocked  at  this  rough  dismissal,  Mercy  went  out 
and  stood  upon  the  landing,  leaning  over  the  balus 
ters  and  cracking  her  fleshless  finger-joints  in  help 
less  perplexity. 


212  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

The  sound  of  the  impatient  Collector  pacing  np 
and  down  the  keeping-room  roused  her  at  last  to 
action.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  down. 

"Well?"  he  exclaimed,  striding  toward  her  as 
she  entered  the  room,  "she  is  coming?  " 

"N-no;  she  —  " 

"  Not  coming  ?  Did  you  tell  her  who  was  wait- 
ing?" 

«Ye-es;  I  —  " 

«  What 's  the  matter  ?" 

It  was  a  trying  situation.  The  excited  Collector 
stood  hanging  anxiously  upon  her  words.  Strength 
of  mind  failed,  and  the  lips  which  from  earliest  child 
hood  had  been  trained  to  truth  now  lent  themselves 
to  guile. 

"She  —  she  —  " 

"Eh?" 

"  She  feels  herself  not — hur-ur — quite  well.  She 
• —  hur-ur —  " 

Stammering  and  blushing,  the  bungler  would 
have  betrayed  herself  to  eyes  far  less  keen  than 
those  which  were  now  suspiciously  riveted  upon 
her. 

"  Did  she  make  that  excuse  ?  " 

"  N-no  —  hur-ur  —  she  —  " 

"  Did  she  send  any  message  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  —  I  besought  her  to  —  to  send  some  pre 
text,  but  she  —  " 

"  Humph  ! " 

The  Collector  stood  for  a  moment  biting  his  lips, 
and  then,  without  a  word  or  a  salute  to  the  humiliated 
Mercy,  stalked  out  of  the  house. 


MARS  AND   CUPID.  213 

An  hour  afterwards  a  note  came  bearing  his  seal. 
One  of  the  housemaids  took  it  up.  Agnes  looked 
at  the  superscription  and  dropped  it  unopened. 

The  next  day  she  saw  it  lying  there  upon  the 
window-seat  as  she  was  going  out  to  work  in  the 
garden.  She  took  it  up  and  again  threw  it  down, 
but  five  minutes  afterwards  came  all  the  way  up 
from  the  garden  to  read  it. 

The  effect  of  the  reading  was  startling.  She 
sprang  up  with  a  look  of  consternation,  put  on  her 
bonnet  and  mantle  and  left  the  house. 

Hurrying  with  might  and  main  she  took  her  way 
directly  to  the  Province  House.  There,  stopped  by 
the  sentry  at  the  door,  she  explained  that  she  was  a 
friend  of  the  Governor's,  and  had  come  to  see  him  on 
important  business. 

Quite  accustomed  to  mystery  in  the  Louisbourg 
matter,  the  sentry  let  her  pass  without  question. 
Entering  the  great  .hall,  she  was  at  a  loss  how  to 
proceed.  All  was  bustle  and  confusion.  In  and  out 
the  rooms  ou  the  ground  floor  and  up  and  down  the 
quaint  old  staircase  officers  in  uniform,  civilians, 
ship-captains,  servants  in  livery,  were  hurrying  to 
and  fro. 

Several  of  these  busy  people  Agnes  questioned  as 
to  how  she  might  get  speech  with  the  Governor,  but 
met  with  nothing  but  rebuff;  it  was  plainly  the 
popular  impression  that  a  woman  had  no  business 
there. 

At  last,  plucking  a  passing  lackey  by  the  sleeve, 
Agnes  slipped  a  fee  into  his  willing  palm,  and  re 
peated  her  question. 


214  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  He  's  in  yonder  room,  ma'am,"  pointing  to  a 
door  on  the  left ;  "  but  there  's  no  use  your  trying  to 
get  speech  with  him,"  answered  the  man,  with  a 
look  which  not  even  the  fee  still  warm  in  his  hand 
saved  from  a  tinge  of  contempt. 

"  I  must  have  speech  Math  him." 

"  He  's  too  busy  now-a-days  to  hold  parley  with 
petticoats." 

"  He  's  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  Beg  pardon,  ma'am  !  "  said  the  man,  with  an  ac 
cession  of  respect. 

"  And  I  have  come  to  see  him  on  business.  Go 
you  in  and  say  Miss  Agnes  Surriage  is  waiting  with 
out  to  have  a  word  with  him." 

The  man  shook  his  head.  Agnes  took  out  her 
purse. 

"  No  use,  ma'am  ;  no  use.  I  would  n't  go  into  yon 
der  room  without  orders  for  all  ye  ha'  in  't." 

At  this  moment  a  tall,  gaunt,  martial  figure  stalked 
past,  with  his  sword  rattling  about  his  heels. 

"  There  !  "  whispered  the  lackey,  looking  after 
him  in  admiration,  —  "  there  goes  one  dare  go  in,  and 
without  knocking,  too,  I  warrant  him  ;  't  is  the  great 
Colonel  Vaughan." 

Agnes  no  sooner  heard  this  announcement  than  to 
the  lackey's  amazement  she  darted  after  the  stranger 
and  walked  boldly  in  after  him  as  he  entered  the 
Governor's  room. 

Once    inside,    Agnes    paused   a   minute    to    look 
around.     It  was  a  busy-looking  scene.     Several  sec 
retaries  were  hard  at  work  at  desks  placed  about  the « 
nide  of  the  room,  while  in  the  middle,  at  a  large  table, 


MARS  AND   CUPID.  215 

sat  his  Excellency  bending  over  an  outspread  map 
to  which  he  constantly  referred  while  talking  to  the 
stout  man  in  a  scarlet  uniform  at  his  side.  The 
latter,  Vaughan  greeted  with  a  military  salute  as 
Colonel  Pepperell. 

As  soon  as  Agnes  perceived  Governor  Shirley, 
regardless  of  his  occupation  or  companions,  she 
stepped  quickly  forward  and  said :  — 

"  May  it  please  your  Excellency,  I  would  fain  have 
a  word  with  you." 

The  Governor  looked  up  in  astonishment  at  this 
bold  interruption,  and  a  frown  of  annoyance  clouded 
his  face  on  recognizing  the  intruder. 

"  Agnes  !  what  are  you  doing  here,  girl  ?  " 

"  I  come  hither  to  see  your  Excellency  on  a  matter 
of  moment." 

"  I  have  no  time  to  attend  to  you.  I  am  busy. 
Go  and  see  Mrs.  Shirley  !  " 

"  No !  "  cried  Agnes,  undaunted  ;  "  'tis  you  I  must 
speak  with,  and  I  have  but  a  word  to  say.  Take 
heed,  I  pray  you ;  let  not  Mr.  Frankland  go  to  the 
war!" 

"  Hoity-toity,  what  now  ?  "  cried  his  Excellency, 
while  a  passing  look  of  amusement  relaxed  the 
strained  lines  of  his  face. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  "  roared  Vaughan,  roughly  ;  "  who 
is  that  ?  The  dandy  young  Collector,  say  you  ? 
And  are  his  dainty  limbs,  forsooth,  to  be  laid  up  in 
lavender  here  at  home,  while  our  bones  are  to  be 
given  over  to  Canadian  crows  ?  " 

"  Ay !  and  the  fittest  use  to  put  them  to  !  "  re 
torted  Agnes,  highly  offended. 


216  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Good !  she  has  mettle,  that  wench,"  said  Vaughan 
aside  to  Pepperell,  who  stood  gravely  awaiting  the 
end  of  the  episode. 

"  He  is  young  and  over-rash,  your  Excellency," 
pleaded  Agnes.  "  He  would  never  come  home  alive 
from  those  bloody  Frenchers.  All  his  kin  are  thou 
sands  of  miles  across  the  sea,  and  his  poor  mother 
would  die  of  grief  if  any  harm  befell  him." 

"  Ay,  ay !  your  Excellency,''  interposed  Vaughan, 
with  a  fresh  outburst  of  laughter.  "  Have  compas 
sion  on  his  mother,  —  so  poor,  so  old,  and  so  far 
away  !  " 

Deaf  to  this  mockeiy,  Agnes  kept  her  eyes  anx 
iously  fixed  upon  the  Governor's  face. 

"  I  have  no  power,  my  good  girl,"  said  the  latter, 
not  unkindly,  "  even  if  I  would,  to  stay  Mr.  Frank- 
land  from  going  to  the  war.  And  for  the  matter 
of  his  mother,  half  the  young  men  who  are  going 
leave  mothers  behind." 

"  But,  your  Excellency  —  " 

"  No  more ;  I  've  no  time  to  waste.  I  can  do 
nothing  for  you ;  so  get  you  gone  and  leave  us  to 
our  work  !  " 

Agnes  withdrew  very  much  discomfited,  and  went 
home  with  a  heavy  heart,  where  she  spent  a  laborious 
afternoon  in  writing  the  following  answer  to  Frank- 
land's  note :  — 

MOST  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  know  not  after  what  manner  I 
ought  to  adress  you,  nor  upon  what  patern  order  my  be- 
havyor  towards  you.  If  hitherto  you  have  lifted  me  up  to  a 
grate  hight  of  happines  and  fortune,  you  have  now  plunged 


MAPS  AND   CUPID.  217 

me  down  into  more  dolefull  misery.  I  am,  indeed,  in  gree- 
vus  case  and  know  not  which  way  I  am  to  turn  for  counsell 
nor  what  I  am  to  think  nor  what  again  'tis  right  and  honor 
able  to  do. 

I  can  think  of  no  better  way  of  proceeding  than  to  tell 
you  without  lett  or  reserve  what  is  in  my  hart.  I  have,  as 
you  are  awair,  small  skill  in  writeing,  and  may  fale  to  make 
you  understand  what  I  would  fane  say  ;  but  I  pray  you  give 
it  thought  and  heed. 

I  shall  first  confess  that  I  was  much  afrighted  and 
grately  angered  at  the  language  you  lately  held  to  me.  I 
see  not  that  even  your  grate  bounty  (of  which  I  daly  strive 
to  recount  the  mesure)  should  give  you  the  right  to  offer  me 
such  indignitty.  You  say  you  was  carried  away  by  passhun, 
and  I  would  fane  beleeve  it. 

You  speak  of  an  iron  law  that  withholds  you  from  doing 
as  you  would  —  that  is  a  law  of  man's  devise.  I  too  have  a 
law  which  withholds  me  from  doing  wrong,  —  a  golden  law, 
a  law  of  God's.  Tell  me  now  which  were  it  better  to  trans- 
gres. 

I  shall  confess  again  that  when  you  came  hither  yester 
day  to  see  me  my  hart  was  filled  with  bitternes  and  wrath. 
I  thought  all  my  love  and  grattitude  to  you  was  quite  at  an 
end.  I  now  see  my  greevous  error. 

It  needed  but  I  should  read  your  letter  for  it  to  flame 
up  again  to  a  prodiggus  hight.  My  anger  is  all  melted 
away,  and  I  am  now  quakeing  with  horrid  fear.  Do  not,  I 
beseech  you,  be  so  cruel  as  to  leave  me  !  'T  is  an  awf ull 
bisness  you  would  go  upon.  There  is  small  chanse,  from 
what  I  hear,  for  anyboddy  to  come  back.  What  is  your 
single  sord  and  arm  in  so  mitety  a  host  ?  What  will  his 
Majesty  say  if  you  dessert  your  post  ?  Think  of  your  mother 
and  what  would  happen  to  her  if  aught  befell  you.  I  do 


218  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

not  bid  you  think  of  me,  for  alas  what  would  it  avale  ?  But 
if  you  will  persist  to  go  in  spite  of  all  entreety,  then  I  must 
needs  follow  after.  I  could  not  rest  here  with  the  thought 
that  you  was  yonder  and  your  life  in  perill. 

Your  obedient,  loving,  humble  servant, 

AGNES. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

RINGING   TRUE. 

RECEIVING  no  answer  to  his  application,  Frank- 
land  waited  again  upon  the  Governor,  when,  it 
would  seem,  his  Excellenc3r,  either  having  no  commis 
sion  to  give  him,  or  unwilling  to  be  accessory  to  his 
leaving  his  post  without  consultation  with  the  Home 
Government,  found  means  to  persuade  him  that  to  go 
off  without  leave,  upon  an  expedition  of  duration  so 
uncertain  and  issue  so  doubtful,  would  be  held  by  his 
Majesty  a  most  culpable  and  unpardonable  neglect 
of  duty. 

With  heavy  heart,  therefore,  the  Collector  aban 
doned  his  purpose  and  stood  by  in  silent  chagrin  while 
the  jubilant  troops  with  beating  drum  and  clashing 
cymbal  marched  down  to  embark  upon  one  of  the 
most  romantic  crusades  of  modern  times. 

And  one  fine  morning  away  they  went,  —  a  white- 
winged  flock  of  snows  and  frigates  and  transports, 
while  flapping  far  aloft  from  the  Commander's  vessel 
streamed  the  precious  banner  bearing  Whitefield's 
sacred  motto  :  "  Nil  desperandum  Christo  duce." 

The  guns  from  Fort  Hill  and  the  Sconce  belched 
forth  salvos  of  farewell,  and  the  whole  populace  of 
the  town,  gathered  upon  the  shore,  cheered  them 
selves  hoarse  in  benediction. 


220  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

All  this  "  post-haste  and  romage  in  the  land  "  was 
succeeded  by  a  dead  calm.  Tired  Boston  turned 
back  with  a  sigh  of  relief  to  its  workshops  and  count 
ing-houses.  It  was  like  skipping  in  a  trice  from  the 
thirteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century,  —  this  coming 
back  to  the  prosaic  and  commonplace  from  so  long 
sojourn  in  the  world  of  the  imagination. 

With  his  official  duties  reduced  to  the  merest  rou 
tine  on  account  of  the  prostration  of  commerce,  with 
all  his  favorite  companions  —  the  young  men  of  spirit 
and  enterprise  —  gone  on  the  expedition,  never  had 
Puritan  New  England  seemed  such  a  bald,  drear, 
humdrum  place  of  abode  to  the  dejected  Collector. 
A  northeast  storm  brought  matters  to  a  crisis. 

At  the  very  lowest  ebb-tide  of  cheer  he  went 
around  that  evening  to  see  Agnes.  He  was  shown 
unexpectedly  into  the  room  where  she  and  the  widow 
were  sitting. 

"  You  did  not  go  !  "  she  cried,  springing  to  her  feet, 
and  trembling  so  violently  that  involuntarily  he  put 
forth  his  hand  to  prevent  her  falling. 

"No,"  he  answered  mechanically,  while  spots  of 
color  glowed  in  a  curious  way  on  his  cheek  and  his 
eyes  suddenly  brightened. 

Meantime  the  widow  saluted  him  twice  without 
notice,  nor  did  he  heed  a  word  of  her  explanation  for 
not  retiring  —  that  it  was  the  only  room  in  the  house 
where  they  could  have  a  fire  in  summer. 

"  This  storm,"  began  Agnes,  making  an  effort  to 
talk,  "is  —  " 

She  paused;  the  searching  look  with  which  he  re 
garded  her  was  very  disconcerting. 


RINGING   TRUE.  221 

"  Eh  ?  "  exclaimed  the  widow,  with  a  methodical 
person's  natural  annoyance  at  an  unfinished  sentence. 

"'Tis  bad  for  the  fleet,  I  suppose." 

"Ye-es  —  no  —  they  won't  mind  a  little  blow  like 
this,"  answered  the  Collector,  half  irritably,  as  if  im 
patient  at  a  question  so  irrelevant  to  his  thought. 

"You  have  not  seen  the  garden  in  a  long  time." 

"  Humph  !  —  the  garden  ?     No-o  ;  very  true." 

"  Everything  is  much  grown,  and  many  new  things 
have  come  up." 

"  Er-r,  yes  ;  you  can't  help  it ;  they  always  do." 

"  Those  last  seeds  you  gave  me  —  I  have  forgotten 
the  name." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  You  will  remember,  perhaps?  " 

"I?     No;  upon  my  word ;  not  at  all.     Seeds?" 

Nothing,  it  would  seem,  could  be  more  futile  and 
unsatisfactory  than  this  talk  ;  and  it  is  not  quite  clear 
why  it  produced  such  a  tonic  effect  upon  Frankland. 
But  the  fact  remains,  that  having  gone  into  the  Widow 
Ruck's  with  thoughts  of  suicide,  he  came  forth  with 
a  cheerful  aspect  and  a  good  appetite  for  his  supper. 

Later  in  the  evening,  with  the  purpose  perhaps  of 
restoring  his  long-disturbed  nervous  equilibrium,  he 
went  off  on  a  vague  tramp  in  the  darkness  and  storm, 
and  coming  back  felt  so  like  himself  again  that  he 
ordered  some  brandy  and  water  and  went  to  bed 
singing. 

Next  day  came  a  budget  of  English  letters.  Out 
of  a  dozen  he  put  aside  two  for  a  more  attentive  read 
ing.  Having  duly  despatched  the  less  interesting,  he 


222  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

settled  back  in  his  chair  with  the  chosen  two.  The 
first  was  from  Walpole. 

From  the  very  salutation  the  charm  of  that  famous 
letter- writer  seized  fast  hold  upon  the  reader's  atten 
tion.  With  delighted  looks  and  lips  gradually  relax 
ing  to  a  smile,  his  eyes  danced  down  page  after  page 
of  malicious  gossip  or  witty  insinuation.  A  muttered 
exclamation  now  and  then  and  a  movement  in  his 
seat  afforded  an  involuntary  tribute  to  some  quip  or 
thrust  too  good  to  be  passed  over  in  immobility.  But 
whether  it  were  that  such  a  surfeit  of  wit  palled 
upon  his  taste,  or  that  he  had  lost  his  earlier  zest 
for  such  matter,  it  is  noteworthy  that  the  Collector 
finished  the  letter  with  less  extravagant  marks  of 
approval,  and  that  indeed  before  he  reached  the 
signature  the  spirit  had  quite  vanished  from  his 
smile,  and  left  it  but  an  unpleasant  grimace.  Tossing 
the  letter  upon  the  table,  he  folded  his  hands  back  of 
his  head  and  looked  long  and  fixedly  at  a  spot  on 
the  wall. 

Presently  he  remembered  his  mother's  letter,  and 
opened  it.  Quite  different  was  the  quiet  interest 
with  which  he  puzzled  out  the  crossed  and  recrossed 
lines  from  the  hungiy  look  with  which  he  had  de 
voured  the  first.  When  about  half  through,  how 
ever,  his  expression  violently  changed.  Throwing 
down  the  elaborately  folded  sheet  with  a  muttered 
oath,  he  sprang  up  and  traversed  the  room  with  angry 
steps. 

Presently  he  stopped,  as  if  with  a  sudden  resolve. 
Catching  up  the  two  letters  he  folded  them  together 
and  sent  them  off  with  the  following  note :  — 


RINGING    TRUE.  223 

DEAREST  AGNES,  —  Read  these  letters.  See  for  your 
self  how  like  a  badger  I  am  baited.  See  how  they  pursue 
me  even  to  the  ends  of  the  earth !  Read,  and  tell  me 
whether  they  are  to  be  hearkened  to  or  not !  These  are  but 
two  out  of  a  multitude  who  would  fill  the  air  with  clamor 
and  leave  me  no  peace  on  earth  if  I  should  dare  follow  the 
dictates  of  my  own  heart  and  order  my  life  after  my  own 
fashion. 

Pity,  then,  I  pray  you,  my  doubt,  irresolution,  and  weak 
ness,  and  have  patience  with  your  devoted 

FRANKLAND. 

Next  day  the  letters  were  returned.  A  deep  flush 
overspread  his  face  as  he  unfolded  them  and  found 
within  no  comment.  Crumpling  the  sheets,  he  threw 
them  straightway  into  the  fire,  forgetting,  perhaps, 
that  he  had  not  yet  finished  reading  his  mother's. 

After  two  days'  continuous  brooding  over  the 
matter,  the  suspense  became  intolerable,  and  one 
evening  he  seized  his  hat  and  started  for  Tileston 
Street. 

On  the  way  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  as  sig 
nificant  that  on  his  last  visit  the  widow  had  been 
present.  Was  her  presence  accidental?  He  had  a 
vague  remembrance  of  her  making  an  explanation. 
Loitering  to  frame  some  pretext  for  getting  speech 
with  Agnes  alone,  he  was  joined  by  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Mather  on  the  way  to  his  new  meeting-house  from 
his  home  near  by  on  Moon  Street. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Collector,"  cried  that  amiable  but 
eccentric  parson,  taking  his  arm,  "  come  along  with 
me  to  prayer-meeting,  and  leaven  your  worklliness 
with  a  little  grace  !  " 


224  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"Prayer-meeting  to-night,  you  say?"  asked  Frank- 
land,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Yes  ;  behold  me  on  the  way  thither  now.  Come, 
and  you  shall  be  made  a  special  subject  of  supplica 
tion  in  return  for  the  box  of  lemons  you  sent  me." 

"  I  had  ample  payment  in  the  clever  verses  re 
turned." 

u  Ah !  I  am  proof  against  flattery.  I  know  the 
rhymes  were  indifferent,  —  I  am  not  strong  in  the 
poetic  way,  —  but  the  receipt  for  punch  enclosed, 
you  will  find  infallible." 

Stopping  on  the  corner  of  Tileston  Street  to  con 
tinue  their  talk,  the  Collector  chanced  to  look  up, 
and  a  fleeting  little  change  of  expression  swept  over 
his  face. 

The  movement,  however  slight,  did  not  escape  his 
alert  companion,  who,  turning  to  discover  the  cause, 
beheld  the  widow  and  Mercy  close  upon  them,  on 
their  way  to  prayer-meeting. 

"  Good-evening,  Widow ! "  cried  the  parson,  quickly, 
in  a  tone  conscientiously  cordial,  at  the  same  time 
bowing  with  an  elaboration  very  near  to  a  flourish. 

Heeding  neither  the  words  nor  the  salute,  the 
widow  passed  on  with  an  expression  that  would 
have  done  honor  to  Saint  Stephen. 

Tipping  Frankland  a  solemn  wink,  the  parson 
waited  until  they  were  out  of  ear-shot. 

"  That  worthy  woman  regards  me  with  relentless 
hostility,  and  yet  I  never  in  word  or  deed  did  her 
the  smallest  injury.  In  ten  minutes  she  will  be  pray 
ing —  none  with  greater  unction — 'forgive  us  our 
trespasses  as  we  forgive,'  etc.  Heigh-ho  !  these  crea- 


RINGING   TRUE.  225 

tures  made  in  God's  image  are  queer  cattle.  Come, 
you  'd  better  go  to  the  prayer-meeting ;  you  must 
need  praying  for." 

"  No,  thank  you ! "  cried  Frankland,  seizing  both 
the  parson's  hands  with  sudden  effusion.  "  I  did, 
yesterday ;  I  did  this  morning ;  I  did  an  hour  ago, 
but  not  now :  somebody  has  forestalled  you  !  " 

Puzzled  at  this  queer  speech  and  this  sudden  fer 
vor,  Mather  had  no  time  to  demand  an  explanation, 
and  the  friends  parted. 

Shown  into  the  keeping-room  to  wait  for  Agnes, 
Frankland  sat  down  in  the  widow's  own  rush-bot 
tomed  chair,  and  glancing  at  a  book  on  the  table, 
into  which  her  spectacles  had  just  been  thrust  as  a 
book-mark,  marvelled  the  more  at  her  recent  exhibi 
tion  of  spirit,  on  reading  the  title :  "  The  Case  of 
Satan's  Fiery  Darts  in  blasphemous  suggestions  and 
hellish  annoyances  as  they  were  considered  in  several 
sermons  heretofore  preached  in  the  congregation  in 
Brattle  Street,  Boston,  May,  1711,  by  Benj:  Gorman, 
and  now  published  by  the  Desire  of  Some  who  hav 
ing  suffered  by  such  Temptations  would  thus  (by  the 
Will  of  God)  minister  to  the  Direction  and  Support 
of  others  in  like  spiritual  Trouble  and  Distress." 

Agnes  came  down  without  reluctance  or  embar 
rassment,  but  looking  very  grave  and  pale. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  looks,  my  dear  girl,"  cried 
Frankland,  hurrying  to  meet  her.  "  I  was  a  coward 
to  send  you  those  letters,  to  let  you  into  a  struggle 
which  belonged  alone  to  me.  But  I  am  a  poor  crea 
ture.  It  seemed  I  could  never  fight  it  out  alone. 
I  was  weak  enough  to  want  you  to  know  it  was  no 

15 


226  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

easy  matter  for  me  to  do  what  seemed  only  a  just 
and  simple  thing." 

"No,  it  is  I  who  have  been  at  fault,  grievously  at 
fault.  I  see  it  all  now.  But  pray  you  pardon  me! 
Remember,  I  was  young.  I  knew  nothing  of  this  you 
call  the  world." 

She  paused.  His  face  was  sinning  with  eagerness. 
He  made  a  movement  to  speak,  but  she  put  up  her 
hand  with  an  appealing  gesture. 

"  You  have  meant  to  confer  a  great  blessing  upon 
me,"  she  continued,  speaking  with  painful  repression, 
but  with  a  voice  free  from  any  tearful  note.  "  I  can 
not  talk  of  that.  I  have  no  words  fit  for  such  high 
matters.  I  hold  you  quit  of  all  consequences,  but  I 
pray  God  it  may  not  prove  you  have  done  me  need 
less  wrong  in  taking  me  away  from  yonder  rude  life, 
to  which  now  I  must  return." 

"  '  Return ' !  "  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  laugh 
ter  which  was  almost  shocking  in  its  discord.  "  Yes, 
when  the  sun  returns  on  his  course,  when  the  river 
rolls  backward  from  the  sea — but  not  until!  'Re 
turn  ' ! "  he  repeated,  clasping  her  rapturously  in 
his  arms.  "  Never,  my  darling  !  Never  !  Never ! 
Never!" 

Struggling  to  free  herself,  Agnes  stared  at  him  in 
bewilderment. 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  he  went  on  in  the  same  ecstatic  and 
incomprehensible  strain  ;  "  the  struggle  is  over  and 
the  victory  mine.  'T  is  plain  now  why  I  was  not 
suffered  to  go  to  Louisbourg,  —  I  had  a  battle  of  my 
own  to  fight  nearer  at  hand.  But  'tis  fought  and 
won ;  't  is  all  settled,  darling.  You  will  never  be  my 


RINGING   TRUE.  227 

Lady  Frankland,  because  I  shall  never  be  Sir  Charles. 
I  will  resign  title  and  inheritance  in  favor  of  my 
brother,  and  I  have  influence  enough  at  Court  to 
have  the  act  confirmed.  No,  you  will  never  live 
upon  hereditary  estates,  never  be  received  at  Court, 
never  have  an  escutcheon,  consort  with  the  great 
world,  and  shine  in  the  ranks  of  fashion  !  But  what 
are  title  and  fortune?  You  might  tire  of  one  and 
lose  the  other.  But  we  —  we  shall  never  get  tired 
of  each  other,  eh  ?  —  nor  ever  lose  one  another  this 
side  heaven ;  and  so,  if  you  will  be  content  with  plain 
Harry  Frankland,  without  a  penny  to  bless  himself 
with  but  his  beggarly  official  salary,  here  he  is  — 
yours  to  all  eternity." 

Deadly  pale,  Agnes  stood,  as  it  seemed,  unable  to 
accept  words  so  "  wild  and  whirring  "  in  their  plain 
purport. 

"  Plain  Mrs.  Frankland  and  love  in  a  cottage  seem 
not  to  enchant  you,"  said  the  anxious  Collector,  wait 
ing  in  suspense  for  Agnes  to  speak. 

But  she  did  not  speak  ;  she  only  stared  at  him  with 
a  fixed  and  troubled  look. 

"  I  am  nothing,  then.  'T  was  but  the  title  and  for 
tune  you  cared  for,  after  all,"  he  continued  in  a  quiz 
zical  tone,  in  which,,  however,  there  was  a  trace  of 
pique.  "  Come,  you  shall  speak  ;  if  you  feel  no  joy 
yourself,  you  shall  at  least  sympathize  with  mine." 

Shaking  her  head  in  a  dazed  way,  Agnes  still  re 
mained  silent. 

"  Speak,  I  say  !  Speak !  "  he  cried,  growing  im 
patient. 

"  It  cannot  be  !  "  she  said  hoarsely. 


228  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Silly  girl,  it  is!  All  is  done.  You  have  nothing 
to  do  but  nod  your  head." 

"  It  cannot  be  !  " 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  I  give  up  all  the  world 
for  you.  I  offer  you  my  hand,  my  heart,  and  my 
honorable  name;  and  have  you  nothing  to  say?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Ah,  rogue !     So  you  have  been  tormenting  me?  " 

"  I  have  to  say  — 

"Goon!" 

"  That  I  will  never  accept  them  !  " 

These  words  were  pronounced  in  a  voice  scarcely 
above  a  whisper,  but  with  a  significant  expression. 

Frankland,  realizing  the  purpose  in  her  resolute 
face,  grew  suddenly  anxious. 

"  Agnes,  Agnes,  what  are  3^011  saying  ?  " 

"Let  me  go!  I  cannot  talk;  I  must  go  away  by 
myself  !  "  she  cried,  as  if  stifling. 

"No!"  he  cried,  blazing  up  passionately;  "you 
shall  not  go.  You  are  mine  !  You  shall  not  escape 
me !  You  shall  not  trifle  with  me  !  I  will  hear  no 
more  such  folly !  I  have  done  all  that  man  can  do  to 
content  you.  Come  to  me  on  what  terms  you  will, 
but  come  you  must!  Oh,  Agnes,"  he  concluded  with 
a  melting  touch  of  pathos,  "  can  it  be  that  you  do  not 
love  me,  girl  ?  " 

He  was  holding  her  tightly  pressed  in  his  arms. 
She  turned  suddenly  and  kissed  him  upon  the  fore 
head,  then  bursting  from  his  hold  ran  sobbing  from 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

RUNNING    TO     COVER. 

"  TV  /TERCY,"  said  the  widow  next  morning,  after 

IV J.  the  lodger  had  left  the  breakfast-table, 
"  you  'd  better  see  what 's  the  matter  !  " 

The  widow  sat  at  the  'tray  washing  her  precious 
breakfast-china,  which  she  never  suffered  to  go  into 
the  kitchen.  Mercy  looked  up  in  surprise.  Her 
mother  had  behaved  unusually. 

"  You  noted  it,  then  ?  " 

The  widow  slowly  closed  her  large  bilious-looking 
eyes,  with  the  effect  of  nodding,  —  a  habit  which 
perhaps  she  had  acquired  at  meeting  in  acquiescing 
with  silent  unction  to  strong  points  in  the  sermon. 

"  She  did  not  eat  a  morsel,"  continued  Mercy, 
moving  into  more  confidential  proximity. 

The  widow  went  on  wiping  her  dishes  with  an  air 
not  at  all  encouraging  to  further  conversation. 

"  Nor  sleep  a  wink  either,  but  walked  the  floor  all 
night  over  my  head.  What  wonder  she  looks  like  a 
ghost ! " 

The  widow  closed  her  eyes  again  and  carefully  set 
down  a  cup  which  she  had  wiped  to  a  glittering  polish 
inside  and  out. 

"  And  I  know  what  it  means,"  continued  Mercy, 
unconsciously  cracking  her  finger-joints  in  her  increas- 


230  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ing  agitation  ;  "  he  was  here  last  night  while  we  were 
gone  to  meeting.  I  found  one  of  his  queer-lookin' 
gloves  on  the  floor  this  mornin'." 

She  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  this  impressive 
announcement. 

"  Stop  that !  "  said  the  widow,  in  a  long-suffering 
tone. 

Mercy  looked  disconcerted,  but  understood  at  once 
and  desisted  her  knuckle  exercise. 

"If  she  's  ill,"  said  the  widow,  pushing  the  tray  of 
clean  dishes  towards  Mercy  to  put  away,  and  bring 
ing  the  conversation  back  to  the  starting-point,  "I 
will  see  what  can  be  done.  If  it  's  anything  else," 
she  added,  drawing  down  her  spectacles  from  her 
forehead  to  the  bridge  of  her  nose  and  casting 
a  significant  glance  at  her  daughter,  "don't  you 
intermeddle ! " 

Thus  instructed,  Mercy  followed  to  the  garden 
on  her  diplomatic  errand.  She  found  the  lodger 
walking  abstractedly  up  and  down  among  her  flower 
beds. 

v  "  Deary  me !  how  the  rain  has  started  the  weeds !  " 
she  began. 

No  notice  was  taken  of  the  remark. 

" 'T  is  just  as  Mr.  Gee  said  last  night  at  meetin': 
weeds  and  tares  are  like  sins  in  the  heart,  ever  ready 
to  spring  up  when  one  is  not  on  the  watch." 

The  lodger,  who  had  instinctively  turned  to  move 
away,  stopped  in  a  listening  attitude.  Mercy  slyly 
took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  come  nearer. 

"  But  the  storm  is  n't  over  yet,"  she  went  on,  "you 
may  see  by  the  wind.  My  father  used  to  say  —  and 


RUNNING    TO   COVER.  231 

he  followed  the  sea  —  there  's  no  chance  of  a  clearing 

O 

Avhen   the   wind  backs  round.     Mother  never  heeds 
the  wind ;  she  goes  by  the  goose-bone." 

The  lodger  moved  on. 

"What  has  happened  to  this  lily?"  clutching  hap 
hazard  at  any  subject.  "  It  looks  blighted  ;  't  is  a 
great  pity ;  the  lily  is  a  beautiful  flower.  Do  you  think 
it  prudent  to  stay  out  here  in  the  damp  air  without 
your  hood?  See,  't  is  beginning  to  rain  already  !  " 

"Yes." 

"  Oh !  —  and  you  have  so  many  beautiful  roses  too  ! 
This  white  one  is  my  favorite.  I  have  heard  say 
yours  is  the  finest  collection  in  town.  You  are  look 
ing  pale  this  morning  ;  do  you  —  " 

"  Get  you  gone  and  leave  me  in  peace !  " 

"  Ye-es,  surely  —  of  course — "  cried  the  discom 
fited  Mercy,  sniffing  violently.  "I  —  I  but  wanted 
—  mother  said  if  there  was  anything  we  might  do  — 
but  never  mind  !  " 

She  turned  and  started  toward  the  house,  but 
directly  felt  herself  seized  from  behind.  f 

"Pardon — stop!  Pardon  me  !  You  meant  it  in 
kindness.  I  thought  not  on  what  I  was  saying.  I 
thank  you  for  your  good  intent.  You  can  do  nothing 
for  me  ;  there  's  nothing  to  be  done  ;  there  's  nothing 
ails  me.  'T  is  only  that  I  want  not  to  be  plagued 
with  talk,  —  I  want  to  be  alone." 

With  this  tumultuous  speech  she  rushed  off  to  the 
house  and  up  to  her  own  room.  Pausing  only  to  put 
on  her  hood  and  cloak,  she  hurried  down  and  left  the 
house  while  Mercy  was  still  in  the  act  of  giving  the 
widow  an  account  of  the  interview. 


232  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Proceeding  swiftly  across  town  as  if  with  a  defined 
purpose,  she  set  out  on  the  road  to  Roxbuiy.  There 
was  no  wind,  and  the  soft  summer  rain  fell  in  crys 
tal  plumb-lines  from  the  clouds.  Half-way  .across  the 
Neck  she  came  to  a  sudden  standstill.  Rolling  leis 
urely  toward  her,  attended  by  a  mounted  servant, 
came  a  chaise.  In  it  sat  Mrs.  Shirley. 

With  a  half-shocked  look  at  this  sudden  appearance 
of  the  person  she  was  going  to  see,  Agnes  stood  for  a 
moment  in  the  midst  of  the  road.  Directly  regaining 
self-control,  she  stepped  out  of  the  beaten  track  into 
a  bed  of  brambles  by  the  wayside,  and  facing  about 
threw  back  her  hood  as  if  to  secure  recognition. 

The  movement  was  successful ;  in  a  moment  the 
chaise  drew  up  before  her. 

"Agnes!  —  why,  how  now,  child?  What  are  you 
doing  here  ?  "  exclaimed  the  astonished  occupant,  as 
her  keen  eye  with  one  sweeping  glance  took  in  the 
details  of  the  figure  before  her,  —  the  distraught  look, 
the  pallid  face,  the  disordered  hair,  the  hanging  hood 
and  dripping  cloak. 

"I  was  coming- — I  —  I  had  it  in  mind  to  —  " 

"  Surely  you  must  be  taking  leave  of  your  wits, 
my  dear,"  interposed  the  elder  lady,  with  the  clever 
matron's  readiness  to  lavish  advice.  "  You  are  getting 
into  very  strange  ways,  I  fear.  What's  this,  I  hear, 
of  your  forcing  your  way  in  upon  his  Excellency  in 
the  rush  of  business,  before  the  expedition  sailed,  and 
begging,  forsooth,  that  Mr.  Frankland  should  not  be 
suffered  to  go  to  the  war  ?  " 

Agnes  put  up  her  hand  with  a  little  pleading 
movement,  as  if  for  attention ;  but  her  mentor  was 


RUNNING    TO   COVER.  233 

not  to  be  cheated  of  the  luxury  of  performing  an 
agreeable  duty. 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear,  upon  my  word,  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  prank,  —  a  young  girl  like  you  inter 
ceding  for  a  gentleman  of  his  rank !  " 

Something  in  the  looks  or  intonation  of  the  speaker 
must  have  given  unusual  point  to  her  words,  for  the 
listener  started  as  if  stung ;  and  the  expression  of 
pain  and  dismay  which  swept  like  a  cloud  over  her 
face  was  quickly  succeeded  by  one  of  pride,  which 
compressed- her  bloodless  lips  and  hardened  the  lines 
around  her  mouth. 

But  clever,  high-minded,  worldly-wise  Mrs.  Shirley 
could  not  be  expected  to  take  note  of  every  little  trick 
of  a  foolish  girl's  face ;  she  was  intent  upon  doing 
her  duty,  —  a  plain,  bounden  duty,  in  the  performance 
of  which  she  will  be  upheld  by  every  well-regulated 
matron  in  the  land.  Without  too  much  regarding 
the  effect  of  her  words,  then,  she  went  on:  — 

"  Have  a  care,  my  dear,  have  a  care !  Take  guid 
ance  in  such  matters,  or  you  will  make  yourself  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  town." 

The  listener  stood  like  a  statue,  and  had  not  the 
grace  to  utter  a  word  of  thanks  for  all  this  precious 
counsel. 

"  But  what  are  you  doing,  tell  me,  so  far  from 
home  ?  Come,  get  in  here  with  me  out  of  the  rain  !  " 
continued  the  considerate  matron,  making  room  on 
the  seat  beside  her. 

"  Many  thanks,  madam,  but  I  mind  not  the  storm," 
returned  Agnes,  coldly. 

"  Not  you,  I  dare  swear,  until  you  have  had  an 


234  AGNES  SURE  I  AGE. 

ague.     But  come,  I  say  ;  I  will  set  you  down  at  your 
own  door !  " 

Agnes  shook  her  head  with  an  obstinate  air,  and 
Mrs.  Shirley  gave  a  sign  to  the  driver. 

"  Good-by,  then ;  I  can  waste  no  more  time  upon 
you  !  Remember  what  I  have  said,  and  come  and 
see  me  more  often,  that  I  may  school  you  to  better 
manners." 

The  chaise  started  on,  but  scarcely  had  the  wheels 
made  a  dozen  revolutions  when  it  stopped  again. 
The  motherly  woman  within  was  haunted  by  a  sup 
pressed  movement  of  relenting,  a  covert  appeal,  in 
the  big  black  eyes  that  had  just  been  gazing  so  in 
tently  into  her  face.  She  looked  back  and  spoke  : 

"  Did  you  want  to  say  anything  to  me,  my  child?  " 

Agnes  hesitated  ;  confidence  is  ashy  bird,  and  once 
driven  to  the  hedge  comes  not  back  at  bidding.  It 
was  as  well  perhaps  that  neither  of  them  could  fore 
see  the  life-long  consequences  hanging  upon  the 
answer  to  that  question.  It  was  but  a  moment.  A 
shake  of  the  head,  and  the  chaise  drove  on. 

With  a  sigh,  sudden  and  deep-drawn,  as  if  reliev 
ing  heart  and  nerves  from  violent  tension,  Agnes 
gazed  after  it,  grateful  then  and  grateful  through  all 
the  after  years  for  those  parting  words  of  kindness 
from  one  upon  whose  living,  face  she  was  never  to 
look  again. 

Back  and  forth  over  a  barren  stretch  of  a  dozen 
yards  in  the  road  she  walked  for  a  long  time  after 
the  chaise  disappeared.  The  rain,  meantime,  had 
ceased  and  the  rising  wind  rolled  up  the  clouds  into 
heavy  masses  which  slowly  floated  off  to  sea. 


RUNNING    TO   COVER.  235 

The  impulse,  whatever  it  was,  which  at  last  started 
Agnes  homeward,  seemed  to  gather  force  and  inten 
sity  as  she  went ;  for  having  reached  the  thickly  settled 
quarter  of  the  town,  she  bent  her  steps  with  almost 
feverish  haste  to  the  Town  Dock.  Here  searching 
out  a  boatman  she  demanded  impatiently  to  be  taken 
to  Cambridge. 

What  with  sailing  much  of  the  time  in  the  eye  of 
the  wind  and  with  the  current  strong  against  them, 
it  proved,  however,  rather  a  tedious  passage.  Agnes, 
although  well-skilled  in  the  management  of  all  kinds 

o  o 

of  craft  and  seeing  for  herself  the  difficulties  of  the 
way,  sat  in  the  stern  chafing  at  the  delay,  and  giving 
every  now  and  then  sharp  directions  for  the  manage 
ment  of  the  ketch  which  the  astonished  skipper 
instinctively  obeyed. 

Having  at  last  reached  their  landing,  Agnes  lost 
no  time  in  making  her  way  to  President  Holyoke's 
house.  There  she  was  told  that  the  worshipful  presi 
dent  was  over  at  the  College.  She  set  forth  at  once 
to  seek  him  out,  but  had  not  proceeded  far  when  she 
saw  some  one  approaching.  Despite  the  increase  in 
years  and  infirmity,  she  recognized  at  once  the  vener 
able  figure  of  her  old  pastor  of  Marblehead. 

She  stopped,  and  stood  awaiting  his  approach.  He 
walked  slowly  and  as  if  rapt  in  thought.  With  pain 
ful  anxiety  she  studied  the  details  of  a  face  which 
every  step  brought  nearer.  Authority  and  seclusion 
had  wrought  their  due  effect.  In  those  pale,  set 
features,  in  those  severe  intellectual  eyes,  there  was 
no  invitation  to  confidence.  With  sinking  heart  she 
drew  aside  and  stood  meekly  awaiting  recognition. 


236  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

In  a  moment  more  he  was  abreast  of  her.  Holding 
her  breath  in  suspense,  she  fixed  upon  him  a  wild, 
beseeching,  glance. 

Recognizing  the  fact  of  a  person  in  the  highway, 
and  it  may  be  with  the  more  complex  impression  of 
a  female,  the  reverend  dignitary  vouchsafed  a  stiff 
bow  of  formal  courtesy,  and  with  the  introverted,  un- 
distinguishing  eye  of  age  passed  on  his  w&y. 

Making  a  vague  movement  as  if  to  detain  him, 
Agnes  sank  upon  the  wet  ground  with  a  groan  of 
despair.  There  she  lay  until  aroused  by  a  passing 
wayfarer.  Irritated  by  the  man's  suspicious  ques 
tions,  she  repelled  all  offers  of  assistance  and  alone 
made  her  way  back  to  the  ketch. 

It  was  just  before  nightfall  when  she  arrived  in 
town.  Although  nearly  exhausted  by  fatigue  and 
hunger,  she  yet  shrank  from  going  home,  and  turning 
as  if  by  natural  instinct  to  the  sea,  wandered  down 
along  the  docks.  Here  all  was  familiar  ;  a  thousand 
associations  of  childhood,  rude  scenes,  rough  words, 
unsavory  odors,  hallowed  by  memory,  came  like  voices 
from  home  to  comfort  and  tranquillize  her. 

Strolling  out  upon  one  of  the  larger  wharves,  she 
stood  leaning  upon  a  pier  listening  to  the  swashing 
of  the  water  as  it  broke  among  the  piles  and  dashed 
up  with  a  thump  against  the  floor  beneath  her  feet. 
The  last  glow  of  sunset  was  fading  from  the  sky. 
Deepening  shadows  crept  in  and  out  among  the 
crowded  docks  and  around  about  the  scattered  fleet 
of  shipping,  as  it  were  the  advance  of  an  unknown 
enemy  occupying  with  mysterious  force  every  coigne 
of  vantage. 


RUNNING    TO   COVER.  237 

Suddenly  Agnes  started  from  her  place  in  violent 
agitation  and  uttered  a  cry.  From  the  dark  prow  of 
a  neighboring  vessel  lifted  out  of  the  black  mass  of 
shadow  by  an  incoming  wave  there  had  gleamed 
dimly  through  the  lingering  light  the  magic  words : 
"  The  Pathfinder." 

With  eager  steps  she  made  her  way  around  to  the 
vessel's  side,  crying  as  she  hurried  down  the  dock  and 
peered  over  among  the  men  who  were  idling  upon 
deck :  — 

"  Job  —  Job  —  are  you  there  ?  " 

A  chorus  of  answers  came  from  the  quizzical  crew. 

"  Sail  —  ho  !  " 

"  Ship  ahoy  there,  petticoat !  " 

"  Job  —  is  he  there  among  ye  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind  him  ;  he  's  forgotten  ye  !  " 

"  He  's  got  another  one  now." 

"  He  has  'em  in  every  port." 

"  Come  and  see  us,  beauty !  " 

"  Give  us  a  kiss,  and  we  '11  tell  ye,  sweetheart !" 

"  Have  done  with  your  gibing.  Shame  upon  you, 
that  cannot  give  a  civil  answer  to  a  lady  !  Keep  your 
jests  for  them  that  like  them,  and  tell  me  now  if  you 
have  a  shipmate  called  Job." 

The  rich  contralto  voice  and  the  tone  of  dignity 
had  an  instant  effect. 

"  Redden,  ye  mean,  mum  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  He  's  ashore  on  leave." 

"  Where  can  he  be  found  ?  Does  any  one  know  ? 
Speak  !  "  The  questions  came  with  uncontrollable 
impatience. 


238  A  ONES   S  URRIA  GE. 

"Ye  might  try  the  Plav'rers,  mum." 

"The  what?" 

"  The  Two  Plav'rers ;  don't  ye  know  the  Two 
Plav'rers?  Ye  're  a  stranger,  sure,  not  to  know  the 
Plav'rers  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  it  now,  —  the  old  inn.  There 's 
for  ye  !  "  and  flinging  a  handful  of  small  coins  from 
her  purse  she  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

The  quaint  old  hostelry,  known  variously  as  the 
"  Salutation "  tavern,  and  the  "  Two  Palaverers," 
from  the  two  nondescript  figures  painted  on  its  sign 
board  who  were  popularly  supposed  to  represent  two 
gossips  in  the  act  of  greeting,  was  situated  on  Salu 
tation  Alley,  and  was  a  favorite  and  popular  resort 
for  the  humbler  classes. 

It  was  already  lighted  and  thronged  when  Agnes 
arrived,  although  so  early  in  the  evening.  Uncon 
scious  of  the  looks  of  wonder  and  admiration  which 
followed  her,  Agnes  made  her  way  through  a  group 
of  idlers  at  the  doorway,  and  so  on  into  the  tap-room, 
which  was  filled  with  a  motley  assembly  of  sailors 
and  mechanics. 

Standing  in  the  doorway  and  scanning  the  room 
with  an  anxious  look,  Agnes  almost  immediately 
found  the  object  of  her  search.  Controlling  herself 
with  evident  effort,  she  went  quietly  up  to  a  table 
where  three  sailors  were  drinking,  and  touching  the 
arm  of  one  who  was  seated  with  his  back  toward  the 
door,  she  whispered  in  her  old  Marblehead  dialect,  — 

"  Job,  I  want  ye.     Come  wi'  me,  mon !  " 

The  sailor  started  to  his  feet  as  though  thrilled  by 
an  electric  shock. 


RUNNING  TO   COVER.  239 

"  Eh  —  her-rt  V  soul !  —  be  't  ye,  Ag  ? "  he  stam 
mered.  "  Sunithin' the  motter-r  wi' ye  ?  " 

"Ay!" 

He  stopped  for  no  more,  but  went  out  with  her 
directly.  By  a  cautioning  movement  she  restrained 
him  from  speaking  until  they  were  beyond  ear-shot. 

"Wha'  be't?  Out  wi'  't  I"  he  cried  hoarsely. 
"  Oi  know'd  't  wor-r  comin'.  Oi  ha'  been  expectin' 
't.  Out  wi'  't,  oi  soy  !  " 

"  Job  !  Job !  "  she  cried,  holding  fast  on  to  him 
with  trembling  hands,  "  'f  ye  ever-r  loved  me,  mon, 
take  rne  home  to  my  mother-r  !  " 

Throwing  herself  into  his  arms,  she  gave  way  to 
long-pent  emotion  in  a  violent  fit  of  sobbing. 

"Ay,  ay!  Thet  oi  will.  Sh-h  !  —  ther',  now! 
don't  tak'  on  so !  Oi  ha'  ye  safe.  Nothin'  sha' 
hor-rm  ye  !  Ther',  now,  oi  soy,  ha'  done  !  Hor-rken  ! 
hor-rken,now,  to  me  a  bit!"  whispered  Job,  as  the 
sobbing  grew  less  violent.  "  'F  ther's  ony  need, 
we'll  quit  this  out  o'  hond,  'f  we  ha'  to  go  afoot; 
but  'f  ther's  no  haste,  we  '11  foind  some  place  near  by 
the  wa-ar-rf  yonder-r,  wher'  ye  can  stay  th'  noight ; 
an'  agin  daybreak  oi  '11  ha'  the  boat  ready." 

"  No,  no,"  sobbed  Agnes ;  "  ther's  no  such  gret 
haste.  Oi  '11  stay  th'  noight  wher'  oi  am." 

"  Wher'  ye  be  !  " 

"  Yonder,  wher'  oi  ha'  lived  ever-r  sin'  oi  cam' 
hither-r.  They  know  nothin'  ther'  o'  th'  motter-r  's 
clrivin'  me  away,  an'  '11  gi'  me  good  treatment.  Ye 
shall  take  me  back  thither-r,  'n'  oi  '11  wait  yer-r 
comin'  i'  th'  mornin' !  " 

Clinging  tenderly  to  the  arm  of  her  old  companion, 


240  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

as  though  she  had  left  him  but  yesterdaj^,  Agnes  led 
the  way  back  to  the  widow's  house. 

"  Job,  Job  !  "  she  cried,  with  a  little  shudder  of 
misgiving  as  they  stood  at  the  gate,  "  you  will  not 
fail  me  ?  " 

"  No  more  'n  oi  ha'  ever-r  failed  ye  afore." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   SIDE  ISSUE. 

THAT  evening  Mercy  was  greatly  surprised  at 
her  mother's  sudden  determination  not  to  go 
to  the  "  praise-meeting."  There  was  good  ground 
for  surprise ;  for  the  widow  had  never  before  been 
known  to  stay  away  from  a  religious  meeting  except 
in  case  of  necessity.  Here,  not  only  was  there  no 
apparent  cause  for  absence,  but  she  vouchsafed  no 
explanation. 

"  I  hope  nothing 's  the  matter  ?  "  ventured  Mercy, 
with  a  look  of  kindling  curiosity. 

"  Nothing  !  " 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  Glory  will  go  with  you,"  said  the  widow,  refer 
ring  to  Gloriana  the  cook,  and  quietly  ignoring  the 
sensation  she  had  created.  "  See  that  she  has  a  seat 
where  she  may  hear,  for  the  occasion  will  be  of  bene 
fit  to  her." 

Mercy  asked  no  more  questions.  She  never  re 
sorted  to  cross-examination  with  her  mother.  There, 
experience  had  evidently  taught  her  to  await  the 
slow  movement  of  a  subtler  process.  Meantime  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  she  went  to  the  service  in  a 
frame  of  mind  fitted  to  profit  by  religious  teaching. 

Directly  the  widow  heard  the  garden-gate  click 
behind  them,  a  change  took  place  in  her  manner. 

16 


242  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

She  walked  about  the  room  needlessly  adjusting  the 
furniture,  closed  the  wooden  shutters,  kindled  a  fire 
upon  the  hearth,  put  a  lighted  candle  upon  the  hall 
table,  taking  a  stealthy  look  at  herself  in  the  antique 
mirror  as  she  passed. 

Coming  back  to  the  keeping-room,  she  settled 
down  in  a  rush-bottomed  chair  with  her  last  new  pam 
phlet,  entitled  "  Meditations  representing  a  Glimpse 
of  Glory ;  or,  a  Gospel  Discovery  of  Immanuel's 
Land." 

Upon  this  occasion,  however,  she  seems  to  have 
been  satisfied  by  a  very  fleeting  glimpse  of  glory ; 
for  she  laid  aside  the  book  after  a  few  pages,  and 
took  her  knitting. 

It  was  while  she  was  in  the  act  of  shifting  her 
needles  after  the  very  first  round,  that  Elder  Haw 
kins  was  ushered  into  the  room. 

Receiving  his  visit  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  widow 
rose,  courtesied,  and  placed  a  chair.  He  sank  into  it 
with  a  dry  little  cough,  which  seemed  to  be  scraped 
up  somewhere  in  his  mouth  as  a  conversational  stop 
gap,  arid  which,  indeed,  for  a  mere  inarticulate  sound, 
proved  to  be  susceptible  of  astonishing  variety  of 
expression. 

"  I  am  happy,  Sister  Ruck,"  he  began  with  a  side- 
way  glance  at  the  widow,  "  at  finding  you  at  home  — 
and  alone." 

"  I  could  not  do  less  than  remain  at  home  after  the 
message  with  which  I  was  honored  —  " 

The  Elder  interjected  an  embarrassed  cough. 

"And  you  chance  to  find  me  alone  because  of 
Mercy's  going  to  the  praise-meeting." 


A    SIDE  ISSUE.  243 

"  Ye-es  —  er  —  the  meeting,  it  slipped  my  mind,  or 
I  should  have  craved  the  present  privilege  for  some 
other  evening." 

"  'T  is  not  so  late,"  said  the  widow  dryly,  glancing 
at  the  tall  clock  in  the  corner,  "  but  that  you  may  yet 
be  there  by  the  time  they  begin." 

"  Oh,  no,  not —  er  —  now,  of  course.  I  was  only  in 
fear  lest  perhaps  the  absence  of  both  of  us  upon  such 
an  occasion  might  be  remarked." 

"And  what  if  it  be?" 

"Mm-m?" 

"  What  if  it  be,  I  say?" 

"  Why  — er  —  nothing  ;  no  harm,  no  actual  wrong  ; 
but  —  but  yet,"  —  he  sandwiched  in  a  little  official 
cough  used  with  great  effect  upon  erring  brethren, — 
"I  think  it  always  better  not  to  give  occasion  for 
censure." 

"  I  hope  never  to  see  the  time,"  returned  the  widow 
with  the  fortified  air  of  one  intrenched  behind  all  the 
beatitudes,  "  when  the  fear  of  censure  will  restrain  me 
from  doing  aught  my  judgment  approves." 

The  Elder,  whether  from  habit  or  defective  hearing, 
resorted  again  to  his  interrogative  hum. 

"  Such  idle  censure  has  no  terrors  for  me,"  re 
peated  the  widow  in  precisely  her  former  tone, 
thereby  implying  some  scepticism  as  to  her  visitor's 
infirmity. 

"  Were  you  —  er — to  —  to  read  what  Ames  says  of 
Callings,"  urged  the  Elder,  tugging  confusedly  at  one 
of  his  pockets,  "  or  the  advice  given  touching  the  bear 
ing  of  Elders  and  others  in  authority,  by  the  late 
Dr.  Smithers  — " 


244  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

"  I  have  no  need,  that  I  know  of,  to  read  what  any 
body  says  on  that  topic  ;  the  guidance  of  Holy  Writ  — 

"  Ye-es,  yes,  to  be  sure,  when  it  comes  to  that,  if 
one  could  always  find  the  precise  point  covered  — 
Let  me — I — er — crave  pardon  'tis  nothing  more 
worthy  acceptance  —  " 

The  Elder  interrupted  himself  to  offer  a  couple  of 
large  oranges  which  he  had  with  great  difficulty 
extracted  from  a  rather  small  pocket. 

"  Most  obliged,  I  am  sure.  You  are  kind  to  think 
of  me ;  they  look  very  choice,"  said  the  widow,  without 
effusiveness  ;  accepting  the  fruit  in  a  matter-of-course 
way  and  placing  it  on  the  table. 

The  Elder,  with  a  suppressed  sigh  of  relief  at  hav 
ing  accomplished  a  necessary  preliminary,  rubbed  his 
withered  hands  and  held  them  toward  the  hearth, 
not  as  suffering  from  cold,  but  in  mechanical  recog 
nition  of  the  fire. 

The  widow  evidently  felt  the  ensuing  silence  a 
little  awkward,  for  she  threw  in  as  a  palpable  make 
shift  the  remark,  — 

"  There  seems  good  prospect  of  clear  weather 
to-morrow." 

The  Elder  did  not  hear,  or  hearing  did  not  heed. 
Nursing  his  thin  legs  and  nervously  writhing  on 
his  chair,  he  was  in  travail  with  his  purpose,  arid 
presently  broke  forth  :  — 

"My — er  —  intent,  Sister  Ruck,  in  waiting  upon 
you  this  evening,  is  —  er — to  renew  the  topic  broached 
upon  the  occasion  of  my  last  visit  and  —  " 

He  paused  and  waited  while  the  widow  with  great 
deliberation  took  up  a  fallen  stitch. 


A   SIDE  ISSUE.  245 

"And  —  er  —  to  bring  it  to  some  satisfactory 
conclusion." 

As  if  to  give  opportunity  for  any  possible  objection, 
the  Elder  here  took  time  for  a  series  of  coughs  of  no 
particular  character. 

"On  many  points,  and  those,  as  I — er  —  under 
stand,  of  greatest  import,  we  are  already  agreed  —  " 

Fearing  perhaps  that  silence  might  involve  undue 
concession,  and  with  the  evident  intent  of  keeping  the 
conversation  within  easy  control,  the  widow  interposed. 

"  I  doubt  if  it  be  safe  to  take  so  much  for  granted." 

"  Mm-m  ?  " 

"  'T  were  best  in  so  grave  a  matter  not  to  jump  at 
conclusions." 

"  Why  —  er  —  I  —  assuredly  I  am  justified  in 
thinking  that  on  personal  grounds  there  are  —  er  — 
no  objections  —  " 

The  widow  began  to  clear  her  throat  with  an  omi 
nous  sound,  and  he  stopped. 

"  I  know  not  what  warrant  I  have  ever  given  for 
such  a  surmise,"  she  said  dryly. 

The  Elder  coughed  toilfully  through  the  whole 
gamut  of  doubt  and  deprecation  before  nerving  him 
self  to  reply :  — 

"'Tis  not  so  much  what  you  have  said  as  what 
you  have  not.  Actions  in  —  in  —  er  —  such  business 
speak  louder  than  words." 

"  And  what  action,  pray  yon,  of  mine  —  " 

"None  —  er — nothing;  I  meant  not  —  er — every 
thing  has  been  most  proper  and  discreet —  " 

The  widow  sat  back  in  her  chair  with  the  tight 
ened  reins  of  conversation  once  more  well  in  hand. 


246  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  But,"  pursued  the  Elder,  carefully  noting  the 
effect  of  every  word,  "  have  you  not  received  ray 
visits  now  for  —  er  —  several  years  —  " 

"And  if  I  have?" 

"  I  may  fairly  be  justified,  't  would  seem,  in  sup 
posing  you  have  —  er  —  some  small  esteem  for  me." 

"  It  is  not  to.  be  denied." 

"  Am  I,  then,  left  to  infer  that  there  are,  notwith 
standing,"  —  the  Elder  here  indulged  in  quite  a  spasm 
of  coughing,  —  "  er —  personal  objections  —  er  — 

"  As  I  remember,"  answered  the  widow,  collected 
ly,  "  I  have  not  committed  myself  upon  that  point." 

"  It  would  be  a  great  step  forward  if  I  could  know 
upon  what  ground  these  objections  — 

It  will  be  noted  that  the  Elder  had  a  timid  way  of 
leaving  significant  sentences  unfinished,  and  that  his 
ellipses  had  generally  an  interrogative  value.  The 
widow  did  not  shrink  from  the  climax  toward  which 
the  discussion  had  been  steadily  drifting. 

"  There  is  the  matter  of  your  health,"  she  said 
quietly. 

The  Elder  looked  at  once  relieved  and  irritated. 

"Oh  —  humph  !"  he  began  hastily,  and  then  with 
second-thought  prudence  paused  to  study  the  form 
of  his  answer.  "  Well,  we  are  neither  of  us  —  crav 
ing  your  pardon  —  any  longer  in  the  first  vigor  of 
youth,  I  suppose  ;  but  for  general  health  and  activ 
ity,"  —  he  straightened  himself  unconsciously  in  his 
chair,  —  "I  am  —  er  —  as  well  off,  I  trust,  as  most 
men  turned  sixty." 

"  There  was  your  attack  of  rheumatism  last  autumn," 
said  the  widow,  with  her  former  directness. 


A    SIDE  ISSUE.  247 

u  Gone  —  all  gone !  "  he  replied,  kicking  his  legs 
out  one  after  the  other  as  if  in  proof. 

"  And  your  asthma  —  " 

"  Better  ;  have  n't  been  so  free  of  it  for  years  as 
I  am  this  minute." 

The  widow  knit  several  rounds  in  silence,  and  the 
Elder  began  to  look  encouraged ;  the  event  showed 
that  he  was  premature. 

"  In  so  grave  a  matter  as  this  in  hand,  Brother 
Hawkins,"  she  resumed  presently,  loosening  the  ten 
sion  of  the  yarn  from  the  feeding-ball  in  her  pocket, 
and  showing  for  the  first  time  a  little  touch  of  con 
straint  in  her  manner,  "  it  is  as  well  to  be  outspoken." 

"  Assuredly,"  he  answered,  with  a  look  of  suspense. 

"  It  is  not  unfit,  then,  that  I  should  mention  certain 
domestic  habits  which,  though  they  concern  me  now 
not  at  all,  might,  in  the  closer  relationship  you  have 
done  me  the  honor  to  propose,  prove  highly  objection 
able." 

The  air  of  calm  invulnerability  to  counter-attack 
with  which  this  was  said,  for  a  moment  nettled  the 
hearer. 

"  Our  Heavenly  Father  hath  made  us  all  of  the 
dust  of  the  earth,  unto  which  in  a  brief  time  we  must 
return,"  he  began  with  an  overdone  air  of  humility. 
"  We  are  born  in  sin  and  with  an  inheritance  of  trans 
gression.  I  am  but  a  poor  toiler  in  the  vineyard,  who, 
though  I  had  but  one  talent  intrusted  to  me,  have  yet 
sought  to  put  it  at  usury.  I  have  humbly  tried,  after 
my  poor  fashion,  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  our  Lord 
and  Master ;  and  though  I  have  achieved  so  little,  I 
yet  hope  He  at  least  out  of  His  abundant  mercy  will 


248  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

pardon  my  shortcomings,  and  accept  me  with  all  the 
sum  of  my  imperfections  —  many  though  they  be  — 
upon  my  head." 

No  little  taken  aback  by  this  dexterous  rebuke,  the 
widow  rubbed  her  nose  with  a  look  of  discomfiture, 
and  hesitated. 

"  These  charges  you  have  to  make  — "  prompted 
the  Elder. 

"  I  have  been  told  you  use  tobacco,"  she  said,  red 
dening  slightl}7". 

"  It  is  true,"  he  answered,  with  a  cough  of  self-jus 
tification,  "  I  occasionally  smoke  a  pipe." 

"  There  has  never  been  any  smoking  in  my  house  ; 
it  seems  to  me  an  abominable  and  filthy  habit." 

"  I  have  found  it  a  great  solace  in  trouble  or  per 
plexity  ;  but,"  continued  the  Elder,  meekly,  "  I  trust 
I  am  not  so  wedded  to  that  or  any  other  weakness  of 
the  flesh  but  that  with  Divine  aid  I  may  overcome 
it." 

In  her  woman's  ignorance  of  the  cost  of  the  pur 
posed  sacrifice,  the  widow  received  this  promise  of 
reform  with  an  indifference  almost  brutal. 

"  I  pray  you  go  on  and  finish  the  story  of  my  short 
comings." 

"  It  is  said,"  pursued  the  widow,  nothing  daunted 
by  the  touch  of  irony  in  the  last  suggestion,  "  that 
you  are  most  remiss  in  the  matter  of  your  meals." 

The  Elder  looked  puzzled. 

"  This,  I  am  aware,  is  not  to  be  ranked  in  impor 
tance  with  moral  defects,  but  there  is  no  more  griev 
ous  drawback  to  the  comfort  and  peace  of  a  house 
hold." 


A    SIDE  ISSUE.  249 

Quite  at  a  loss  what  to  say  to  so  novel  a  charge,  the 
Elder  coughed  with  indefinable  expression. 

"  There  is  only  one  time  to  eat  a  meal,"  pursued 
the  widow  with  the  absolutism  of  the  model  house 
wife,  "  and  that  is,  when  it  is  ready.  I  could  never 
abide  that  a  person  should  come  dawdling  to  my  table 
a  half-hour  behind  time." 

"  This  trait,"  said  the  Elder,  a  little  bewildered  at 
the  emphasis  bestowed  upon  the  matter,  "  has  never 
before,  I  think,  been  presented  to  my  notice  in  the 
light  of  a  misdemeanor.  Perhaps,"  he  added,  with  a 
flickering  attempt  at  a  smile,  "the  habit  might  be 
trusted  to  correct  itself  with  such  company  at  the 
board." 

The  widow  received  this  feeble  attempt  at  playful 
ness  with  grave  disapproval.  "  The  matter,"  she  said, 
"is  of  importance  enough  in  my  eyes  to  be  made  the 
subject  of  a  distinct  promise." 

"  As  you  will,"  sighed  the  Elder,  resignedly ;  "  I 
will  pledge  myself  to  endeavor  to  meet  your  approval 
in  that  regard." 

There  followed  a  pause,  during  which  the  widow 
played  out  yarn  from  her  pocket  and  the  Elder  sat 
nursing  his  legs  in  strained  suspense. 

"  Pray  you  go  on,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  tone 
suggestive  of  moral  constraint.  "  What  other  and 
more  heinous  fault  is  reserved  to  close  the  cata 
logue?" 

"  I  think  of  nothing  else,"  said  the  widow,  after  a 
whole  minute  of  thoughtful  silence. 

"'Nothing'!"  echoed  the  Elder  with  an  irrepressi 
ble  sigh  of  relief.  "  Why,  then  the  way  would  seem  to 


250  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

be  clearing,  and  I  am  gladdened  with  the  thought 
that  I  may  go  forth  to-night  with  your  promise." 

He  drew  up  his  chair  in  a  little  flustered  way,  and 
seized  in  his  own  the  hands  of  the  widow,  who,  with 
a  conscious  look  and  heightened  color,  suffered  the 
endearment.  In  this  attitude  they  were  disturbed  by 
the  sound  of  a  heavy  footstep  in  the  hall.  The  widow 
released  herself  and  stepped  promptly  to  the  door. 

A  glance  reassured  her.  It  was  only  the  Collector, 
whom  one  of  the  housemaids  was  ushering  into  the 
room  across  the  hall.  The  light  fell  full  upon  his 
snowy  tie-wig  and  puce-colored  coat  as  he  passed 
the  candle.  His  back  being  turned,  their  eyes  did 
not  meet,  and  there  was  no  occasion  for  greeting. 
The  widow,  therefore,  carefully  shut  the  door  and 
went  back  to  the  Elder. 

"  Having  settled  so  happily  the  personal  objections," 
began  the  latter  with  a  vague  effort  to  resume  their 
former  posture,  which  was  ignored  by  the  widow,  "  it 
would  seem  there  could  be  no  further  difficulty." 

As  this  sanguine  proposition  was  received  in  utter 
silence,  his  forehead  slowly  settled  back  into  the  old 
creases  of  anxiety. 

"  Surely  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  in  a 
worldly  way  the  interests  of  both  would  be  furthered 
by  our  union?"  he  resumed,  prudently  finishing  the 
sentence  with  an  interrogative  inflection. 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  it  has  yet  become 
so  clear  to  me,"  was  the  conservative  answer. 

"  I  should  offer  no  objection  to  your  reserving  to 
your  own  use  the  whole  income  of  your  personal 
estate." 


A    SIDE  ISSUE.  251 

The  widow  did  not  look  impressed  with  this  con 
cession. 

"  Although  it  is  unusual  —  "  the  Elder  was  begin 
ning  again,  when  the  widow,  with  a  little  air  of  im 
patience,  interposed :  — 

"  The  small  sum  of  my  worldly  goods  must  needs 
be  settled  upon  me  wholly  and  unconditionally  before 
I  advance  a  step  in  the  business." 

"  Ahem  !  "  exclaimed  the  Elder,  with  a  cough  of  dis 
may  ;  "  it  is  an  unheard-of  thing." 

"  As  you  will ;  there  is  no  constraint  upon  us  to  go 
on  in  the  matter." 

"But,"  urged  the  Elder,  ignoring  the  alternative 
suggested,  "  have  you  reflected  I  shall  be  responsible 
for  your  debts  ?  " 

The  widow  smiled  grimly.  "  You  are  not  like  to 
be  crushed  under  the  burden." 

"  And  —  er  —  liable  for  your  support  ?  " 

"  With  my  own  means  in  hand  I  can  supply  my 
own  necessities." 

"  You  will  not  be  bound  in  law  to  do  so." 

"Neither,  I  trust,  do  I  need  binding  to  do  my 
duty." 

"  The  law  has,  however,  been  established  for  a  wise 
purpose,  that  the  husband,  being  the  head  of  the  house 
and  responsible  for  all  taxes,  debts,  and  burdens, 
should  have  control  of  the  necessary  means." 

"  Keep  control  of  what  is  yours,  with  all  my  heart, 
but  expect  not  ever  to  gain  control  of  mine  ! " 

"  Yet,  has  it  occurred  to  you  that  the  law  endows 
you  with  a  third  part  of  my  estate  on  the  day  we  are 
married  ?  " 


252  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  An  advantage  which  I  will  cheerfulty  forego," 
interrupted  the  widow  with  a  promptness  which  sug 
gested  that  the  sacrifice  demanded  of  her  would  not 
be  immense. 

"Are  you  well  advised  in  what  you  are  saying?" 

"If  I  be  not,  I  can  but  take  the  consequences." 

The  Elder  rose,  and  walked  up  and  down  with  a 
discomfited  air. 

"  There  is  yet  one  point,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "upon 
which  I  would  we  might  come  to  some  agreement." 

His  hostess,  silently  knitting,  did  not  help  him  out 
by  a  word  or  look  of  interest. 

"There  is  your  pasture  at  Muddy  River — " 

A  sudden  little  gleam  of  intelligence  lurked  for  a 
moment  about  the  widow's  eyes  but  was  promptly 
repressed. 

"  It  adjoins  mine,  as  you  remember,  and  being  so  far 
from  the  rest  of  your  land,  it  can  be  of  no  great  value 
to  your  estate  — 

"  On  the  contrary,"  broke  in  the  widow,  promptly, 
"I  have  had  divers  offers  for  it,  and  consider  it  a 
valuable  tract.  I  cannot  say,  however,  if  so  be  you 
feel  disposed  to  yield  a  point  in  return,  but  that  I 
might  be  prevailed  upon." 

"  Why,"  remarked  the  Elder,  warily,  "  any  reason 
able  point  which  lay  lawfully  in  my  power  and  was 
no  more  than  a  fair  equivalent — " 

"  'T  is  a  small  matter,  and  perhaps  3^011  already  have 
it  in  contemplation  as  a  necessary  part  of  your  estab 
lishment,  —  I  mean  the  keeping  a  carriage." 

The  Elder  was  overtaken  with  such  a  vigorous 
attack  of  coughing  that  he  could  not  at  once  answer. 


A    SIDE  ISSUE.  253 

"  I  am  called  to  do  much  in  the  service  of  the  con 
gregation,"  pursued  the  widow,  "  and  that  oftentimes 
when  the  roads  are  in  bad  condition;  and  you  also 
would  find  it  of  great  convenience  in  going  to  neigh 
boring  towns." 

"'Tis  a  grievous  expense  —  setting  up  a  carriage," 
said  the  Elder,  shaking  his  head  doubtfully  ;  "  and 
there  is  constant  risk  involved.  In  my  humble  judg 
ment,  hiring  horses  at  need  is  by  far  the  better  way 
for  folks  in  our  condition." 

The  widow  pursued  the  subject  no  further ; 
whereat  the  Elder  became  very  uncomfortable,  and 
after  exhausting  all  the  arguments  in  favor  of  his 
own  view,  he  suddenly  asked, — 

"  Is  your  mind  then  so  stubbornly  fixed  upon  this 
extravagance  ?  " 

"  If  there  be  any  question  of  stubbornness,  it  must 
lie  with  you,"  said  the  widow,  calmly.  "  The  car 
riage  is  demanded  in  return  for  the  land ;  if  you  do 
not  insist  upon  the  land,  there  need  be  no  further 
talk  of  a  carriage." 

The  Elder  sat  for  some  time  in  silence,  fitting 
the  finger-tips  of  his  right  hand  against  those  of 
the  left,  and  looking  over  the  bony  pyramid  into  the 
fire. 

"  Although  there  is  much  doubt  in  my  mind  if 
these  be  fair  and  just  equivalents,"  he  said  at  last, 
mildly,  "yet,  as  I  would  have  the  business  despatched 
to-night,  I  yield  the  point  of  the  carriage  in  exchange 
for  the  land." 

"  Let  it  be  so  stipulated  in  the  settlement ! "  said 
the  widow,  cautious!}7. 


254  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  It  shall.  And  now  is  there  any  other  matter 
upon  which  we  are  not  agreed  ?  " 

"  It  is  understood,"  said  the  widow,  "  that  I  am 
never  to  be  asked  to  move  from  this  house,  and  that 
Mercy  is  always  to  have  a  home  with  me?  " 

"  That  is  already  settled." 

"  I  know  of  nothing  else." 

"  Then  are  we  agreed  ?  " 

"  I  see  nothing  against  it." 

"  Let  us  pray !  "  cried  the  Elder,  rising  with  an 
air  of  precipitation  and  extending  his  hand  to  the 
widow. 

Scarcely  had  the  prayer  ended,  when  the  door  was 
suddenly  thrown  open  and  Agnes  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  She  was  dressed  in  a  long  gray  cloak  and 
a  red  hood,  which  falling  back  from  her  head  showed 
her  face  ashen  pale  and  her  eyes  shining  with  fever 
ish  brilliancy.  She  came  forward  holding  out  a  piece 
of  paper. 

"  If  a  man  —  if  somebody  comes  to  ask  for  me 
while  I  am  out,  give  him  this  !  " 

Too  deeply  absorbed  with  the  crisis  in  her  own 
affairs  to  remark  the  disturbance  in  the  lodger's  look, 
the  widow  mechanically  thrust  the  paper  in  her 
pocket  and  thought  no  more  of  the  matter. 

Next  morning  she  was  told  that  a  rough-looking 
man  was  asking  for  Agnes  at  the  door,  and  was 
presently  startled  by  the  further  announcement  that 
the  lodger  was  not  in  her  room,  had  not  slept  in  her 
bed,  and  could  not  be  found.  She  hurried  instantly 
to  the  door  with  the  note  in  her  hand. 

"Is  this  for  you?"  she  asked,  extending  the  paper. 


A    SIDE  ISSUE.  255 

"  Oi  'm  thinkin'  not !  " 

"  Is  your  name  Redden  ?  " 

"  Ay,  is  it." 

"Did  you  expect  a  message  from  Agnes  —  from 
Miss  Surriage  ?  " 

"  No  ;  oi  wor  n't  expectin'  no  message ;  oi  wor 
expectin'  hersel',"  retorted  Job,  suspiciously. 

"  She  is  not  here  !  "  said  the  widow,  with  growing 
consternation. 

"  Wher'  be  she,  then?"  he  demanded  savagely. 
.  "  I  know  nothing  about  it.  She  was  not  at  home 
last  night;  she  said  nothing  of  staying  out;  she  has 
never  done  the  like  before.  I  fear,"  concluded  the 
widow,  losing  her  habitual  control,  "  something  has 
happened  to  her." 

"  'F  ther's  onythin'  ill  hoppened  her,"  said  Job, 
threateningly,  "  't  '11  go  bod  wi'  ye  all !  " 

"  The  paper ! "  cried  the  widow,  with  sudden  re 
lief,  —  "  the  paper  —  read  it !  It  may  explain !  " 

"  It 's  no  good  to  me,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head 
sullenly.  "  Read  it  you !  " 

The  widow  opened  the  hastily  scribbled  note  and 
turned  pale  as  she  read :  — 

DEAR  JOB,  —  I  have  served  you  ill  turns  before,  but 
this  is  the  worst.  I  have  gon  away.  Take  no  more  heed  of 
me,  —  I  am  not  worth  your  pains.  But  mind  this,  —  remem 
ber  what  I  say,  —  '£  is  my  own  folt ;  let  noboddy  blaim  him  ! 
One  word  more.  O  Job,  for  the  sake  of  the  old  days,  —  of 
the  times  when  we  were  children,  —  spare  me  your  curses ! 
That  is  all.  God  bless  you !  Forget  I  ever  lived,  and 

never,  never  again  speak  the  name  of 

AGNES  SURKIAGE. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

COUNTING    THE    COST. 

SIDE  by  side  on  Garden  Court  Street  stood  two 
of  the  stateliest  mansions  in  the  town,  —  one, 
the  ill-fated  dwelling  of  Lieutenant-Governor  Hutch- 
inson ;  the  other,  bordering  upon  Bell  Alley,  the 
scarcely  less  noted  house  of  Charles  Henry  Frank- 
land. 

The  well-known  cut  in  the  histories,  taken  from  a 
painted  panel  which  once  adorned  the  interior,  shows 
the  outside  of  the  Collector's  house  to  have  been 
bald  and  plain  to  severity.  This,  however,  was  but 
an  architectural  mask,  —  a  Puritanical  cloak,  as  it 
were,  covering  the  swashing  bravery  of  a  Royalist  and 
courtier.  In  effect,  it  was  an  unconscious  concession 
of  the  new  dispensation  to  the  old  theocratic  spirit 
fast  passing  away.  For  behind  this  cold  and  for 
bidding  fagade  was  hidden  a  sumptuous  interior, 
of  which  we  have  alluring  details.  The  vast  hall 
running  through  the  midst,  the  old  staircase  leading 
off,  so  broad  and  easy  of  ascent  that  Frankland 
used  to  ride  his  pony  up  and  down,  the  splendid 
decoration  of  the  lower  rooms  with  their  wainscoted 
walls  illuminated  by  painted  panels,  the  mantel-pieces 
of  wrought  Italian  marble,  surmounting  hearths  laid 


COUNTING   THE   COST.  257 

in  painted  tiles  of  finest  porcelain,  the  tessellated 
floors  composed  of  hundreds  of  rarest  woods,  the 
fluted  and  richly  carved  columns  supporting  the 
ceiling,  the  gilded  pilasters  and  cornices,  the  buffet 
groaning  with  massive  plate,  the  cellar  stocked  with 
choicest  wines,  —  these  are  some  of  the  sounding 
phrases  in  the  description  of  this  old-time  mansion, 
which  yet  a  latter-day  citizen  would  find  wanting  in 
the  prime  necessaries  of  life ;  for  in  all  the  sum  of  its 
appointments  there  is  no  mention  of  a  furnace,  a  gas- 
pipe,  a  bath-room,  or  an  ice-chest.  In  view  of  all 
this,  it  is  pathetic  to  reflect  that  the  eighteenth 
century  plumed  itself  upon  its  civilization. 

Like  a  body  reft  of  its  soul,  Agnes  sat  amid  the 
splendor  of  her  new  home.  She  passed  the  time  in 
wandering  aimlessly  from  room  to  room  and  staring 
blankly  out  of  the  windows.  Life,  as  it  were,  passed 
on  and  around  her  without  touching  her  at  any  point. 
She  seemed  waiting  for  the  world  to  go  by  and  leave 
her  alone.  Withal  she  made  no  show  of  grief  other 
than  sitting  day  in  and  day  out  wearing  the  with 
drawn,  brooding  look  which  haunts  the  faces  of 
certain  antique  statues. 

Frankland  was  deeply  concerned.  This  mood  of 
Agnes  was  quite  out  of  the  range  of  his  experience. 
He  studied  her  face  and  watched  her  every  move 
ment  with  ceaseless  solicitude  but  increasing  per 
plexity.  At  times,  his  own  invention  at  fault,  he 
appealed  in  despair  to  Agnes  herself. 

"  What  is  it  ails  you  ?  Be  a  good  girl,  now,  and 
tell  me !  If  it  were  grief  you  would  weep,  but  I 
never  find  you  in  tears.  If  it  were  anger  you  would 

17 


258  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

vent  reproaches  on  me.  If  it  were  aversion  —  but 
no,  I  will  not  yet  believe  —  Tell  me,  Agnes,  that  I 
am  not  hateful  to  you  !  " 

For  all  answer,  she  simply  put  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Why  then,  dear  creature,  what  is  it  keeps  you  in 
this  woful  state  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  with  a  look  so  ex 
pressive  of  the  futility  of  explanation  to  one  who 
needed  to  ask  it,  —  a  look,  too,  which  had  so  unmis 
takable  a  touch  of  profound  pity  for  the  querist, 
that  Frankland  was  much  discomfited.  Perhaps  that 
look  suddenly  revealed  to  him  a  certain  remote 
ness  in  their  spiritual  states  which  forbade  entire 
fellowship. 

"  My  dear,"  he  broke  out  a  few  days  after  at  the 
breakfast-table,  "  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  in  this 
way.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  send  for  the 
doctor  out  of  hand." 

Agnes  looked  at  him  vacantly  a  moment,  when,  as 
if  the  sense  of  his  words  had  just  reached  her,  she 
cried  out  with  great  earnestness,  — 

"  Do  not !  oh,  do  not,  I  beg !  " 

"  Yet  something  must  be  done  ;  you  will  listen  to 
nothing  I  advise." 

"But  I  am  quite  well,"  she  pleaded,  rubbing  her 
hands  and  straightening  herself  in  the  chair  as  if  in 
proof. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  convinced  you  are  very 
ill." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  assure  you,  I  have  no  pain." 

"  You  are  as  white  as  chalk." 

«•  'T  is  nothing." 


COUNTING   THE  COST.  259 

"And  do  not  eat  enough  to  keep  a  sparrow  alive." 

"But  if 'tis  all  I  need  —  " 

"  'Tis  not;  look  at  your  plate  now." 

She  gazed  blankly  at  her  untouched  breakfast, 
saying  in  a  tone  of  constraint,  as  she  rose  from  the 
table,  — 

"  I  am  not  hungry  now ;  I  will  eat  by  and  by." 

"  So  you  say  every  day,  but  the  '  by  and  by '  never 
comes,  and  you  grow  more  pale  and  ill  all  the  time. 
What  can  I  do?  I  search  the  shops  and  markets 
through  in  quest  of  tidbits,  but  you  will  have  none 
of  them." 

Agnes  looked -troubled. 

"Look  yonder,  my  dear,"  he  said,  putting  his 
arm  about  her  as  they  moved  away  from  the  table ; 
"  there  lie  the  flowers  I  fetched  you  last  night,  all 
withered  because  you  cared  not  enough  to  put  them 
in  water." 

"I  —  I  pray  you  forgive  me  ! " 

She  gathered  up  the  faded  flowers  with  a  look  of 
remorse. 

"  Poh !  poh !  't  is  no  matter.  You  shall  have  fresh 
ones  to-day.  'T  is  not  of  the  flowers  I  think ;  't  is 
that  you  're  no  longer  yourself.  You  look  like  one 
distraught.  You  stare  at  me  when  I  speak,  you 
heed  not  what  I  say.  You  even  forget  that  I  am 
with  you,  and  care  not  at  all  for  my  great  anxiety  on 
account  of  the  state  you  are  in." 

Startled,  as  it  seemed,  by  this  accusing  tone,  and 
moved  perhaps  by  the  gravity  and  earnestness  of  his 
look,  on  a  sudden  impulse  Agnes  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  hid  her  face  in  his  bosom. 


260  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  There  —  so ;  you  are  yourself  again,"  stroking 
her  head  tenderly.  "  And  now  are  you  willing  to  go 
to  a  little  trouble  to  please  me  ?  " 

"  God  forbid  I  should  shrink  from  any  pains  to 
oblige  you  !  " 

"  Hark  }^ou,  then  !  I  will  go  to  the  office  and 
despatch  what  there  may  be  of  moment,  and  make 
haste  back  again.  At  ten  o'clock  I  will  have  the 
horses  at  the  door,  and  — " 

"  No,  no  I "  starting  up  with  a  look  of  consterna 
tion, —  "not  that!  I  am  not  able  —  I  cannot  go 
out." 

"Ah,  but  that's  the  trouble.  You  will  not  do  the 
one  thing  will  cure  you.  'T  is  the  lack  of  fresh  air  is 
all  the  matter." 

She  closed  her  eyes  weariedly,  with  the  former 
look  of  resignation  to  hopeless  misunderstanding  on 
her  averted  face,  and  made  no  answer. 

"  Come,  now,  dear,  listen  to  me,  and  —  " 

"  Nay,  do  not  press  me  in  this  matter !  " 

"  But,"  he  began,  with  persistency. 

She  shook  her  head  with  so  harassed  an  air  that  he 
desisted.  He  stood  to}7ing  with  his  ruffles  for  a  few 
moments,  with  a  look  of  vexation,  and  then,  heaving 
a  little  sigh  of  disappointment,  went  off  to  the  Cus 
tom  House. 

He  came  home  as  usual  to  a  mid-day  dinner,  and 
went  flying  upstairs  with  an  air  of  great  bustle  and 
excitement,  where  he  found  Agnes  seated  at  her 
chamber-window,  still  wearing  her  morning  toilet, 
and  holding  in  her  hand  the  withered  flowers. 

"  Great  news  —  there   is   great   news,   girl  !  "   he 


COUNTING    THE   COST.  261 

shouted,  with  his  eyes  ablaze.  "  The  town  is  agog. 
The  heroes  of  Louisbourg  are  come  back !  They 
were  sighted  outside  two  hours  and  more  ago,  and  by 
this  are  come  to  anchor  in  the  harbor.  They  will  be 
received  this  very  afternoon,  and  never  was  seen 
such  a  bustle  of  preparation ;  't  will  be  the  greatest 
sight  ever  known  in  Boston.  Hurrah,  my  dear! 
Try  now  and  join  me  in  a  little  cheer,  and  see  how 
'fc  will  stir  your  blood  !  Aha !  I  think  I  detect  a 
very,  very  faint  little  tinge  creeping  back  to  its  old 
home  here  !  "  playfully  patting  her  cheeks. 

What  with  the  suddenness  of  his  entrance  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  manner,  Agnes  did  indeed  flush 
with  contagious  excitement. 

"  But  what  is  here  ?  Fie  !  Still  wearing  your 
breakfast-gown?  Come,  now,  make  haste  and  call 
your  maid.  Do  you  see  the  hour  ?  Dinner  will  be 
dished  before  you  are  in  order." 

Frankland  was  so  full  of  the  news  that  he  could 
talk  of  nothing  else  at  dinner,  or  so  he  would  have  it 
appear. 

"  You  remember  Warren,  of  course,"  he  went  on, 
as  they  rose  from  the  table.  "  'T  is  my  old  friend, 
the  Commodore.  I  have  often  told  you  of  him.  He 
has  covered  himself  with  glory,  and  there  is  talk  of 
knighting  him,  and  Pepperell  as  well.  Pepperell  is 
with  him,  yon  know.  The  two  will  be  received  to 
gether,  and  with  equal  honor;  there  was  never  anything 
like  it!  You  shall  go  with  me  to  see  the  parade," 
—  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  her,  — "  the  carriage  will 
be  here  directly.  Every  mother's  son  in  town  will 
be  there.  Egad !  we  will  have  Warren  to  stay  with 


262  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

us !  Dear  old  Peter !  How  rejoiced  I  shall  be  to 
embrace  a  genuine  British  tar  still  smelling  of  gun 
powder.  Ah,  it  quite  turns  my  head  !  Hush  !  there 
go  the  guns ;  they  are  moving  up  the  harbor ;  the 
shipping  is  firing  salutes !  Quick,  fly  and  get  on 
your  bonnet !  Here  comes  the  carriage  !  " 

Agnes  stood  looking  at  the  floor  with  an  irresolute 
and  troubled  air. 

"  Now,  my  dear  girl,  do  not  object  —  " 

She  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  speak,  but  he  would 
not  suffer  her. 

"  No,"  he  went  on,  imperatively,  "  I  will  listen  to 
you  when  we  get  back.  Come,  Agnes,"  with  sudden 
seriousness,  "you  will  pain  me  very  much  if  you 
refuse !  " 

There  was  a  show  of  yielding  in  her  face. 

"  What  should  you  dread  ?  I  shall  be  with  you  ; 
I  will  not  quit  your  side  for  a  moment  —  " 

"  I  will  go  !  "  she  said  suddenly. 

"Bravo!  There's  my  old  Agnes;  this  is  a  great 
day.  Hark  !  There  go  the  guns  from  the  Castle  ! 
Quick !  quick,  my  love !  let  us  be  there  before  they 
make  the  landing  !  " 

Once  seated  in  the  carriage  they  drove  straight  to 
King's  Street,  and  took  their  place  in  the  throng  of 
vehicles  which  blocked  every  approach  to  that  chief 
thoroughfare  of  the  town. 

True  enough,  as  the  Collector  said,  Boston  had 
known  few  such  opportunities  for  a  pageant.  Nature, 
too,  conspired  to  the  success  of  the  occasion  by 
making  that  1st  of  June  a  radiant  day.  The  whole 
populace  came  forth  to  celebrate  their  first  great 


COUNTING   THE   COST.  263 

military  achievement,  now  renowned  through  all  the 
world.  / 

Amid  the  roar  of  guns,  the  clangor  of  bells,  and 
the  shouts  of  the  people,  Agnes  sat  unmoved,  gazing 
upon  the  general  tumult  as  upon  some  mad  and 
meaningless  raving. 

Not  so  Frankland ;  his  blood  was  fired.  "  See, 
see  !  "  he  cried,  standing  up  in  the  carriage ;  "yonder 
is  the  *  Chester '  with  the  blue  banner.  Warren  is 
Commodore  of  the  Blue,  you  know.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  British  man-of-war  ?  Look,  then ;  you  never 
saw  the  like  of  that  before  !  Hark !  What 's  all  the 
drumming?  Ah,  the  Boston  regiment.  Here  they 
come  !  This  is  their  training-day ;  they  've  been 
drilling  all  the  morning  on  the  Common.  Egad  !  but 
they  march  well,  too.  What  now  ?  Ay,  ay  !  I  see  ; 
drawing  up  in  two  lines  to  let  the  procession  pass 
through.  That  shouting  must  be  for  the  Governor. 
Sure  enough  ;  here  come  the  Cadets !  That 's  Cap 
tain  Pollard  in  front.  Worthy  Ben  looks  like  Fal- 
staff  in  that  toggery.  Here  's  Shirley  at  last ;  his 
Excellency's  wig  is  something  awry  ;  but  a  hero  can 
afford  to  be  careless  of  his  harness.  Look  at  those 
solemn  stalkers  at  the  Governor's  heels  !  'T  is  the 
worshipful  Council,  and  next  behind  come  the  honor 
able  representatives ;  they  're  all  on  the  march  down 
to  Long  Wharf  to  help  Warren  and  Pepperell 
ashore." 

While  waiting  for  the  procession  to  return,  the 
people  naturally  occupied  themselves  with  one  an 
other.  So  fine  an  equipage  as  the  Collector's  did  not 
escape  notice.  Many  a  curious  eye  was  turned  upon 


264  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

the  grand  coach  in  which  Agnes  sat  pale,  silent,  and 
consciously  shrinking. 

Her  retirement  was  destined  to  be  rudely  invaded. 
They  were  suddenly  hailed  by  an  assertive  personage 
from  the  crowd. 

"  Hello,  I  say,  Frankland  !  well  met,  I  vow !  Never 
was  sight  of  faithful  vestryman  more  opportune  to  a 
distressed  rector.  Here  have  I  been  for  half  an  hour 
trampled  under  the  heels  of  this  unmannerly  mob, 
little  dreaming  of  your  presence." 

"  Come  in  !  Come  in  !  Here  is  plenty  of  room," 
opening  the  coach  door.  "  Mr.  Price,  my  dear  !  " 

Agnes  started  and  turned  red  and  pale  by  turns 
as  the  bustling  clergyman  promptly  accepted  the 
invitation  and  climbed  up  to  the  seat  by  her  side. 

"  Good-day  to  you,  Miss  Surriage.  I  am  glad  to 
be  of  your  company.  Ah,  this  is  a  blissful  relief,  I 
assure  you ! "  settling  his  ample  person  among  the 
comfortable  cushions.  "  I  hope  I  may  not  discom 
mode  you." 

Agnes  muttered  a  confused  disclaimer,  which  was 
lost  in  the  bustle. 

"  'T  is  a  rare  day  and  a  great  occasion,"  went  on 
the  parson.  "  Yes,  there  's  nothing  that  brings  out 
your  vulgar  and  your  gentle,  and  reduces  all  for  the 
nonce  to  a  common  level  of  humanity,  like  the  war- 
fever,  —  love  of  the  vain  bubble  glory,  and  all  that. 
Frankland,  you  're  as  bad  as  the  rest.  I  've  been 
watching  you ;  not  a  whit  more  conservative  than 
the  rabble.  As  for  me,  if  you  ask  my  business,  why, 
forsooth,  I  'm  making  parochial  calls." 

The  Collector  laughed.      "No,  I'm  one  of  them 


COUNTING    THE   COST.  265 

to-day,  and  I  let  it  come  out.  I  've  a  right  to  a  little 
enthusiasm,  too,  for  Warren  is  an  old  crony  of  mine ; 
I  am  come  to  swell  his  triumph.  You  yourself 
would  like  friend  Peter ;  he  's  much  after  your  pat 
tern.  I  '11  have  you  to  meet  him,  if  Shirley  swallows 
him  not  bodily." 

"  So  do ;  count  on  me !  Nothing  would  suit  me 
better  than  such  a  bout;  and  afterwards  you  shall 
bring  him  down  to  my  new  place  at  Hopkinton." 

"What,  yonder  in  the  wilderness  where  'tis  said 
you  are  striving  to  transplant  the  Church  of  Eng 
land?" 

"  And  have  transplanted  it.  Come  down  and  see 
my  new  chapel !  'T  is  already  consecrated,  and  en 
dowed,  too,  with  a  fine  glebe.  For  myself,  I  have 
a  comfortable  little  box  just  across  the  way,  with 
an  estate  half  as  big  as  an  Irish  county,  all  picked  up 
for  a  mere  song." 

"  What  signifies  the  size,  if  it 's  all  forest?  " 

"  But  it 's  not ;  't  is  a  fine,  fertile  country,  a  virgin 
soil—" 

"  Oh,  never  a  doubt." 

"  With  views  not  to  be  matched,  brooks  swarming 
with  trout —  " 

"Eh?" 

"  Upon  my  word ! " 

"  Why,  now  you  are  talking  to  the  point." 

"And  such  shooting  as  I  have  not  met  in  the 
country." 

"  You  would  make  us  believe  it  a  paradise." 

"  Why,  so  it  is,  —  of  peace  and  quiet  and  all  ra 
tional  enjoyment.  If  now  I  can  but  get  that  nig- 


266  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

gardly  London  Society  or  my  very  cautious  Lord 
Bishop  to  endow  my  infant  church,  and  if,  also,  I  can 
procure  you  and  a  few  other  Christian  souls  to  go 
thither,  we  might  realize  poor  Berkeley's  dream  of 
a  model  community." 

"  But  what  chance  for  the  poor  laity,  now  that  the 
church  has  laid  its  mortmain  grasp  on  all  the  land  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  heart,  sir,  there  's  land  enough  for  all 
creation !  Come  down  and  see,  and  I  '11  pledge  my 
word  you  '11  return  owner  of  a  fine  plantation,  and 
honor  my  name  and  memory  for  putting  it  in  your 
way.  Come,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  will  bind  myself  by  no  promises." 

"  You  shall  at  least  bind  yourself  by  a  promise  to 
visit  us,  and  you  shall  bring  Miss  Surriage  too.  My 
dear  madam,"  turning  suddenly  to  Agnes,  "  we  shall 
be  glad  to  see  you  as  well.  We  may  then  get  better 
acquainted.  As  it  is,  I  see  you  but  once  in  a  dog's 
age.  Where  do  you  keep  hid  so  closely?  Are  you 
still  lodging  with  the  old  Puritan  duenna  of  Tileston 
Street?" 

Agnes,  seized  with  panic,  looked  helplessly  at 
Frankland.  Happily  his  ingenuity  was  not  put  to 
the  test,  for  a  tremendous  salvo  of  artillery  announced 
that  the  heroes  had  landed,  and  directly  the  air  was 
filled  with  uproar. 

Amid  the  booming  of  cannon,  volleys  of  mus 
ketry,  clanging  of  bells,  and  the  hoarse  cheering  of 
the  multitude,  the  martial  Governor  led  the  brace  of 
heroes  to  the  Town  House,  where,  in  speeches  which 
should  be  framed  in  gold  and  hung  up  within  those 
time-honored  walls  as  eternal  models  of  brevity  for 


COUNTING    THE   COST.  267 

maundering  posterity,  they  received  the  honors  show 
ered  upon  them. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  this  Honorable  House,"  said  the 
gallant  tar,  "  for  the  great  respect  they  have  shown 
me.  They  may  depend  on  my  zeal  and  service  while 
I  live  for  the  colonies  in  general  and  this  province 
in  particular." 

"  I,"  quoth  in  turn  "  the  great  man  of  Kittery," 
"  am  heartily  obliged  to  the  Honorable  House  for  the 
respect  they  have  shown  me,  and  I  shall  be  always 
ready  to  risk  my  life  and  fortune  for  the  good  of  my 
dear  native  country." 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

TEIAL  AND    VERDICT. 

AFTER  her  experience  at  the  Warren  and  Pep- 
perell  reception,  it  will  be  no  matter  of  won 
der  that  Agnes  shut  herself  up  closer  than  ever.  No 
inducement,  indeed,  could  tempt  her  to  cross  her  own 
threshold,  nor  would  she  see  any  of  the  numerous 
guests  who  frequented  the  house.  Frankland  pleaded 
with  her  in  vain.  She  sometimes,  it  would  seem, 
grew  wearied  of  his  remonstrances. 

"  But  you  are  losing  your  beau\y,  my  darling." 

She  made  a  movement  of  impatience. 

"  And  your  health,  too,  will  soon  be  impaired  under 
such  treatment." 

"  What  matter  if  it  be  ?  " 

"  Vital  matter ;  for  life  is  worth  nothing  without 
it." 

"Tis  all  one  to  me." 

"  Fie,  fie  !  lay  aside  that  tone  !  The  whole  trouble 
lies  in  a  nutshell :  this  jail-bird  life  robs  you  of  your 
spirits.  With  your  cheer,  away  flies  your  appetite ; 
and  all  is  founded  upon  your  perverseness  in  prefer 
ring  imprisonment  to  liberty.  I  must  needs  chide  you 
for  such  unreasonableness." 

He  spoke  with  such  an  air  of  conviction  that 
Agnes  sighed  as  if  in  despair  of  finding  any  other 
answer. 


TRIAL  AND   VERDICT.  269 

"  Come,  then,  let  me  help  you  drive  away  these 
vapors!  Come  out  into  the  sunshine,  and  see  the 
flowers,  and  hear  the  birds  sing  !  They  will  bring 
back  your  old  self." 

"  Can  they  bring  back" — she  checked  her  outburst 
of  bitterness,  and  concluded  with  self-control  —  "  the 
past  ?  " 

"  And  would  you  in  truth  bring  back  the  past  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  drearily. 

"  Were  you  happier  then?  Would  you  go  back  to 
Tileston  Street  and  leave  me?  " 

She  drew  nearer  him  with  a  half  shudder,  but  did 
not  answer. 

"  Why,  then,  darling,  cannot  you  be  happy  ?  Go 
about  as  you  used  to  do.  I  will  go  with  you.  I 
will  not  quit  your  side.  I  will  protect  you  from 
impertinence." 

"  Even  though  you  were  to  protect  me  from  the  judg 
ment  and  censure  of  my  neighbors  and  townsmen  —  " 

"  I  will,  I  can.  No  one  shall  address  you  of  whose 
respect  and  demeanor  I  am  not  assured." 

"  There  is  still  one  against  whom  all  your  powers 
cannot  avail." 

"  Divine  Mercy  —  " 

"  Hush,  hush !  I  dare  not  think —  Do  not  speak 
of  that ! " 

"  What  then  —  whom  else  do  you  dread  ?  " 

"  Myself." 

"'Tis  because  you  shut  me  out  of  your  heart. 
You  will  not  tell  me  your  thoughts.  Believe  me, 
dearest  creature,  if  you  will  but  confide  in  me,  I 
will  find  a  way  to  protect  you  even  from  yourself." 


270  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"Oh,  nothing,  —  nothing  can  ever  do  that  now!" 
starting  up  with  a  sudden  air  of  wildness,  with  hands 
pressed  to  her  bosom. 

"  There,  there !  "  folding  his  arms  about  her  ten 
derly.  "  How  can  we  ever  hope  to  cure  this  trouble 
while  you  are  forever  brooding  upon  it  ?  Let 's  think 
of  something  else.  Come,  now,  go  off  with  me  for  a 
walk  into  the  fields  ;  out  on  the  hills ;  in  the  wild- 
wood,  where  we  can  get  away  from  this  pest  of  hu 
manity  and  into  companionship  of  Nature." 

"  Nature  is  for  those  whose  minds  and  hearts  are 
in  tune  with  her ;  she  will  hold  no  companionship 
with  such  as  I." 

"  Fudge  and  faddle  !  Come,  now,  I  shall  get  down 
right  angry  with  you.  I  will  hear  no  more  such  stuff. 
You  shut  your  ears  to  reason ;  you  heed  nothing  I 
say.  Upon  my  word,  at  times  I  think  you  care  for 
me  no  longer." 

She  looked  disturbed  at  his  unusual  sharpness  of 
tone.  He  went  on,  laboriously  working  up  his  fit  of 
indignation  :  — 

"  'T  is  no  matter  what  pitch  of  anxiety  I  am  in,  you 
heed  it  not  a  jot.  I  am  persuaded  you  do  not  care. 
I  never  thought  you  could  be  so  selfish.  You  shut  me 
out  of  your  heart  and  life.  You  live  as  much  alone 
as  a  hermit,  moping  and  brooding  over  your  own 
thoughts,  —  and  most  unwholesome  ones  at  that. 
Thus  wrapped  up  in  yourself,  you  have  not  a  care  to 
waste  upon  my  unhappy  state." 

"  Do  you,  indeed,  think  this  ?  "  with  a  look  of 
pain. 

"  Have  I  not  warrant  enough  ?  " 


TRIAL   AND    VERDICT.  271 

She  looked  at  him  intently,  suspecting  a  want  of 
sincerity  in  his  petulance. 

"  Agnes,"  he  went  on,  dropping  his  pretence  as  if 
ashamed  of  it,  "  we  two  stand,  as  it  were,  against  the 
world.  We  should  be  all  in  all  to  each  other.  What 
need  we  care  whether  others  approve  our  coarse  ? 
Our  duty  is  to  be  faithful  to  each  other.  Speak  the 
word,  and  we  will  go  away  from  here.  If  there  be 
aught  lacking  to  your  happiness,  tell  me.  I  will  get 
you  anything  the  world  affords." 

"  Go,  get  me  back  my  innocence  !  "  she  cried  with 
a  sudden  outburst,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

Shocked  at  this  violent  reproach,  —  the  first  that 
had  passed  her  lips,  —  Frankland  sat  brooding  over 
it  for  hours.  Late  at  night,  when  the  footsteps 
had  died  away  in  the  streets,  and  the  wax-lights 
burned  low  in  the  sconces,  there  was  a  rustle  of  silk 
behind  him,  and  Agues  flung  herself  down  beside  his 
chair. 

"  Forgive  my  frantic  words !  I  was  beside  myself. 
Have  patience  with  me,  Frankland  ;  pity  me  !  At 
times  it  seems  my  wits  are  wanting,  and  I  act  like  a 
child." 

If,  as  was  natural,  Frankland  hoped  for  any  good 
results  from  this  incident,  he  was  doomed  to  disap 
pointment.  It  needed  only  another  experience  of  dif 
ferent  sort  but  similar  significance  to  convince  him 
he  had  yet  little  cause  for  congratulation. 

Smybert,  after  a  wearisome  delay,  at  last  sent 
home  the  portrait.  It  was  done  in  his  well-known 
style  and  at  its  best.  Indeed,  honest  John  would 
seem  to  have  been  a  little  inspired  by  his  subject ;  for 


272  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

the  painting,  although  it  showed  no  very  high  or 
subtle  qualities,  had  a  captivating  vitality. 

Frankland  was  more  than  satisfied,  —  he  was  de 
lighted.  Thinking  to  give  the  original  a  pleasant 
surprise,  he  blindfolded  and  brought  her  up  to  it  as  it 
hung  over  the  fireplace  in  the  drawing-room. 

She  uttered  a  cry  as  if  hurt,  and  recoiled  violently. 
That  fair,  smiling  face,  triumphant  in  its  beauty  and 
securely  happy  in  its  new-pledged  love,  was  a  terrible 
reminder.  She  insisted  upon  its  removal  ;  and,  in 
deed,  the  very  thought  of  its  presence  in  th«  house 
was  so  obnoxious  that  the  discomfited  Collector  took 
it  away  to  his  office. 

Meantime  other  influences  intervened  to  effect  what 
entreaty,  expostulation,  and  reproach  had  in  vain 
attempted. 

Frankland  came  home  one  evening  with  a  grave 
face,  and  sat  for  a  long  time  studying  his  patient  as  if 
hesitating  to  say  what  he  had  in  mind.  Concluding, 
perhaps,  that  the  case  could  not  be  worse,  and  that 
the  experiment  was  worth  trying,  he  ventured  at 
length  :  — 

"I  have  bad  news  for  you,  my  dear  !  " 

She  regarded  him  with  the  look  —  void  of  either 
curiosity  or  concern  —  of  one  who  had  passed  beyond 
the  reach  of  human  emotions. 

He  handed  her  a  copy  of  the  "  Evening  Post," 
with  his  thumb  on  the  following  item:  — 

"  Last  Night,  died  at  Dorchester,  greatly  lamented,  after 
a  few  days'  Illness,  the  Lady  of  His  Excellency  Our 
Governor." 


TRIAL  AND    VERDICT.  273 

Staring  at  the  passage  as  if  it  conveyed  no  mean 
ing  to  her  mind,  Agnes  let  the  paper  fall  upon  the 
table  without  comment. 

After  waiting  for  a  space,  Frankland  said  in  protest 
against  such  indifference,  — 

"  Poor  Shirley  !  't  will  be  a  sad  blow  to  him.  She 
was  a  fine  woman.  She  was  a  faithful  wife  to  him.  She 
has  been  a  faithful  friend  to  both  of  us,  my  dear !  " 

Without  a  word  of  assent,  or  the  least  evidence  of 
interest,  Agnes  rose  and  walked  away.  An  hour 
afterwards  Frankland  found  her  sitting  upstairs  in 
the  gloom,  her  face  wet  with  tears. 

"  Why,  Agnes,"  he  said,  taking  her  in  his  arms 
impulsively,  "  I  wondered  you  did  not  care." 

Directly  she  burst  into  a  fit  of  weeping.  A  most 
prolonged  and  uncontrollable  fit  it  proved.  The  dam 
once  broken  down,  the  whole  flood  swept  over. 

Although  somewhat  haggard  and  jaded,  she  rose 
next  morning  in  a  frame  of  mind  which  the  anxious 
Collector  recognized  as  in  some  measure  a  return  of 
her  natural  self. 

Of  her  own  accord  she  expressed  a  wish  for  a  suit 
of  mourning  that  she  might  go  to  the  funeral. 

Only  too  gladly  Frankland  assented  to  a  purpose 
so  entirely  in  accord  with  his  own  wish ;  and  ac 
cordingly  on  the  day  of  the  funeral  their -coach  took 
its  place  in  the  mourning  cavalcade,  in  company  with 
"  the  Honourable  his  Majesty's  Council  and  House  of 
Representatives,  and  a  vast  Number  of  the  principal 
Gentry  of  both  Sexes  of  this  and  the  Neighbouring 
Towns."  The  "  Post "  in  its  issue  next  day  described 
the  funeral  at  length  :  — 

18 


274  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  During  the  Procession,  which  began  at  Three  O'clock, 
P.  M.,  the  Guns  at  Castle  William  and  the  Town  Batteries 
fired  every  half  Minute,  as  did  also  those  on  board  his 
Majesty's  Ships,  Chester,  Henchingbrook,  Massachusetts, 
and  Boston  Packet.  The  Corps  being  carried  into  the 
King's  Chapel,  the  Rev.  Mr  Commissary  Price  preached  a 
sermon  very  suitable  to  the  mournful  occasion  from  Rev. 
xiv.  13:  '  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from 
henceforth:  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from 
their  labours;  and  their  works  do  follow  them.'  " 

Next  Sunday  there  was  a  profound  sensation  at 
King's  Chapel  when  Frankland  handed  Agnes  up  the 
aisle  to  the  head  of  his  own  pew.  Her  face,  refined 
by  traces  of  suffering,  its  clear  pallor  set  off  by  her 
mourning  garments,  never  had  the  effect  of  her  beauty 
been  more  marked  or  irresistible.  Not  the  widowed 
Governor  in  the  pew  of  State,  surrounded  by  his  or 
phaned  children,  was  an  object  of  more  universal 
attention. 

Agnes  alone  was  oblivious  of  the  notice  bestowed 
•upon  her ;  with  devout  face  and  unaffected  piety  she. 
sat  through  the  service  in  rapt  attention  to  its  pur 
pose  and  meaning. 

As  the  congregation  rose  to  disperse,  the  two  found 
themselves  surrounded  and  jostled  in  the  crowded 
aisles  by  friends  and  acquaintances.  It  proved  a 
terrible  moment.  Agnes  had  plainly  not  realized 
that  she  was  coming  to  her  trial.  The  place,  the 
relative  attitude  of  the  parties,  —  everything  tended 
to  emphasize  the  ordeal.  Public  opinion  pronounced 
its  verdict,  while  it  held  the  culprits  in  durance. 
That  verdict,  a  silent  thunderbolt,  fell  with  swift 


TRIAL  AND    VERDICT.  275 

and  crushing  force.  No  throng  in  Roman  amphi 
theatre  ever  turned  down  their  thumbs  in  more  mer 
ciless  accord  than  these  good  pious  Christians  met 
under  a  consecrated  roof  and  fresh  risen  from  bowed 
adoration  of  One  who  in  his  large  and  tender  charity 
said :  "  He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him 
first  cast  a  stone  at  her." 

For  a  space  Agnes  was  overwhelmed.  She  shook 
violently  ;  her  strength  failed.  In  the  delirious  whirl 
of  the  senses  which  precedes  loss  of  consciousness, 
she  suddenly  felt  Frankland's  arm  upholding  and 
supporting  her.  It  was  an  Ithuriel  touch.  By  a 
supreme  effort  she  regained  self-control.  No  longer 
heeding  the  disdainful  looks  of  those  about  her, 
clinging  fast  to  him,  with  her  pallid  face  upturned 
to  his  in  love  and  confidence,  she  made  her  slow  way 
out  of  church.  She  had  chosen  one  against  the 
world, — one  who,  however  much  he  had  wronged 
her,  had  yet  in  the  hour  of  trial  stood  stanch  ly  up  to 
shield  her  against  the  deadly  scorn  of  her  kind. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  BARONET. 

NEXT  day  Agnes  fell  ill,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life.  Hitherto,  perfect  health  had  crowned 
her  as  with  an  aureola.  She  was  like  a  wild  bird 
shut  in  a  cage,  and  proved  a  most  intractable  invalid. 
Frankland  was  in  sore  straits  how  to  manage  her. 
She  would  not  be  coddled,  stubbornly  refused  all  pills 
and  possets,  and  became  violent  at  the  mention  of  a 
doctor. 

Happily  it  was  a  case  which  could  safely  be  left 
to  Nature,  —  a  quotidian  fever,  which  while  it  wasted 
her  flesh,  blanched  her  skin,  and  weighed  down  her 
limbs  with  lassitude,  yet  made  no  alarming  inroad 
upon  her  vitality.  To  confirm  her  constant  state 
ment  that  she  was  quite  well,  she  must  needs  be  up 
and  dressed  every  day  despite  all  protests,  creeping 
languidly  about  the  house  and  curling  herself  up  in 
the  sunny  window-seats  after  her  old  habit  at  the 
Widow  Ruck's. 

It  was  noteworthy  that  her  mind  seemed  to  regain 
tone  as  her  body  lost  it.  This  cropped  out  gradually 
and  in  little  things,  —  straws  upon  the  current ;  she 
began  to  act  as  if  at  home,  to  assume  the  tone  of  a 
mistress  to  the  servants  and  slaves,  —  in  short,  to  treat 
her  surroundings  as  belongings. 


A    BARONET.  277 

A  corresponding  change  of  mental  attitude  toward 
the  outer  world  presently  became  apparent.  Frank- 
land  discovered  it  with  equal  surprise  and  delight ; 
but,  as  most  clearly  a  policy  deliberately  adopted  upon 
conviction,  which  in  its  turn  was  as  evidently  the 
fruit  of  mature  thought,  it  warned  him  of  unsuspected 
reserves  still  existing  between  them. 

One  evening  he  was  late  in  getting  home.  Having 
crept  down  to  meet  him,  she  threw  herself  upon  a 
sofa  in  the  parlor  to  wait  upon  his  tardiness.  Com 
ing  in  presently,  he  stopped  on  the  threshold  and 
stared,  no  doubt  at  the  very  pretty  picture  she  made, 
what  with  her  careless  attitude,  her  black  hair  fall 
ing  softly  about  her  pallid  face,  all  emphasized  by 
admirable  details  of  a  pale  blue  robe  and  white 
quilted  petticoat  against  the  yellow  damask  of  the 
sofa. 

A  glad  look  overspread  her  face,  more  significant 
than  a  smile.  He  sat  down  to  tell  her  the  gossip  of 
the  day,  when  directly  they  were  interrupted  by  a 
loud  knock  at  the  street-door. 

Frankland  turned  to  warn  the  servant  who  passed 
through  the  hall. 

"  He  knows,"  said  Agnes,  anticipating  the  move 
ment  ;  "  he  has  orders  to  admit  no  one  at  this 
hour." 

Listening  idly  they  heard  the  man,  faithful  to  his 
orders,  deny  the  visitor  admission,  when  directly  an 
imperative  voice  was  heard  to  say :  — 

"  But  I  won't  be  sent  away  ;  I  hear  Miss  Surriage 
is  ill.  Go  say  to  your  master  't  is  his  pastor,  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Price." 


278  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

A  firm  step  was  heard  the  next  minute  in  the  hall. 
Frankland  turned  quickly  to  shut  the  door,  but  before 
he  could  interpose,  the  Commissary  entered  the  room. 

"Ah,  here  you  are  within  ear-shot,"  he  went  on 
without  embarrassment;  "so  you  heard  me  running 
the  guard  —  " 

Frankland  looked  anxiously  at  Agnes,  fearful  of 
the  effect  of  this  intrusion.  He  must  have  marvelled 
at  her  absolute  composure.  Reassured,  he  turned  to 
the  visitor  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  You  deserve  a  welcome  for  your  boldness  in 
forcing  an  entrance  ;  the  man  had  orders  to  admit 
nobody,  on  account  of — " 

"  Miss  Surriage.  Yes,  I  heard  she  was  ill.  'T  was 
on  her  account  I  came,"  turning  and  shaking  hands 
cordially  with  Agnes. 

Frankland  was  amazed,  and  at  a  loss,  too,  what  to 
think.  Well  as  he  knew  his  pastor,  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  say  from  his  manner  whether  lie 
was  so  engrossed  with  the  approaching  crisis  in  his 
own  affairs  as  to  see  nothing  unusual  in  Agnes's 
presence  in  the  house,  or  whether,  having  heard  of 
the  scene  at  the  Chapel,  he  had  come  promptly  to 
emphasize  his  disapproval  of  the  behavior  of  his 
flock.  It  is  significant  of  Frankland's  estimate  of  the 
clergyman  that  he  should  have  found  these  theories 
equally  consistent  with  his  character. 

The  Commissary's  next  speech  dispelled  all  doubt 
as  to  his  thought  and  feeling  in  the  matter.  It  was 
unfortunate  that  his  manner  suffered  a  falling  off 
from  the  high  level  of  his  motive. 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  see  you  in  this  case,  madam,  but 


A   BARONET.  279 

hope  by  finding  you  downstairs  that  you  're  on  the 
mend  already.  I  feared  you  might  lack  attention 
from  outside  friends  in  your  —  in  the  —  that  is,  under 
the  circumstances." 

Agnes's  reception  of  this  overture  was  interesting. 
Without  embarrassment,  without  a  trace  of  pride  or 
resentment,  she  listened  and  replied.  Partly  by  her 
calmness,  —  the  calmness  of  one  withdrawn  upon  a 
plane  beyond  the  reach  of  the  world's  approval  or 
censure,  —  and  partly  by  a  subtler  suggestion  of 
something  in  her  manner  which  Frankland  puzzled 
his  brain  vainly  to  anatyze,  she  effectivel}'  rejected  the 
too  apparent  condescension  of  her  visitor  and  left 
him  disconcerted. 

All  this  by  her  manner ;  her  words  were  common 
place  enough  :  — 

"  My  thanks,  sir  ;  but  I  have  suffered  yet  no  lack 
of  attention." 

"Ah,  so!  I'm  glad  to  hear  it;  'tis  plain,  too, 
you  're  not  in  danger,  or  you  'd  hardly  be  here." 

"  There  's  no  cause  to  make  my  health  the  subject 
of  concern,  sir.  I  assure  you,  I  am  laid  down  here 
because  I  am  —  tired,  as  you  may  say." 

"  That  being  the  case,  I  shall  dismiss  all  anxiety, 
madam ;  and  since  you  are  in  so  fair  a  way,  I  may  as 
well  broach  some  business  I  have  with  the  Collector, 
in  which  you,  too,  should  be  interested.  Upon  my 
word,  now  I  think  upon  it,  't  would  be  a  stroke  of 
policy,  madam,  to  win  you  over  before  I  attack 
Frankland." 

Agnes  shook  her  head  weariedly.  "  I  have  small 
influence  with  him  in  that  way." 


280  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Nay,  never  trust  her !  "  broke  in  Frankland,  quite 
delighted  with  Agnes's  altered  manner.  "  'T  is  she 
rules  the  roast  and  tyrannizes  over  us  all ;  you  will 
do  well  to  begin  with  her." 

"  Oh  !  I  am  sure  of  that,  and  venture  upon  it  the 
readier  that  I  have  great  confidence  in  her  good 
sense,"  said  the  Commissary,  with  re-established  com 
posure.  "  Nevertheless,  I  will  spare  my  breath  to 
cool  my  broth,  and  aim  at  both  birds  with  the  same 
stone.  You  remember  onr  little  talk  about  Hop- 
kinton  the  day  you  rescued  me  from  the  mob.  Ay  ! 
I  see  you  do.  Well,  then,  you  must  know  I  am  but 
just  back  from  another  visit.  Ah,  Frankland  !  ah, 
madam  !  there  's  the  place  for  you  both  !  " 

"  The  same  old  story,"  said  Frankland,  smiling. 

"  The  very  same,  save  that  I  've  a  new  chapter  to 
tell :  this  time  while  there  I  had  you  in  mind,  and 
looking  about  a  bit,  discovered  several  contiguous 
tracts,  —  some  hundreds  of  acres  in  all,  —  held  at  a 
contemptible  rate,  which  would  make  you  a  noble 
plantation.  Bethink  you,  sir!  Go  down  there  and 
build  a  fine  mansion,  take  along  a  dozen  slaves,  with 
horses  and  dogs,  and  you  may  keep  the  state  of  a 
prince  on  a  few  thousand  pounds !  " 

Frankland  dissembled  his  growing  interest  and 
cavilled :  — 

"If  I  could  but  place  faith  in  this  account  of 
yours,  my  lord  Commissary,  no  doubt  I  should 
speedily  become  a  convert;  but  I  have  so  often  heard 
you  draw  upon  the  same  glowing  fancy  in  painting 
the  glories  of  a  future  life,  which  you  can  know 
nothing  about,  that  I  beware  of  you  a  bit." 


A   BARONET.  281 

"Nay,"  said  the  Commissary,  laughing,  "if  all 
my  powers  of  imagination  have  availed  to  bring  you 
no  nearer  heaven  than  you  are,  it  proves  them  to  be 
very  limited;  but  here  is  no  fancy  at  all,  I  assure 
you,  but  literal  fact." 

*'  But  moving  so  far  away  from  civilization  is  like 
going  back  to  the  savage  state." 

"  Never  a  bit ;  you  take  your  civilization  with 
you.  For  the  matter  of  that,  say  I,  give  me  one 
thing  or  the  other,  —  civilization  or  barbarism.  As 
for  this  hybrid  condition  we  are  in  here,  —  why,  the 
wilderness  is  a  thousand  times  to  be  preferred." 

Frankland  could  find  no  objection  to  an  opinion 
so  often  uttered  in  still  stronger  terms  by  himself. 

"  Life  will  blossom  into  new  beaut}r  and  sweet 
ness  when  we  once  get  out  of  this  stifling  Puritan  at 
mosphere,"  went  on  the  clergyman,  "  where  a  man 
cannot  do  as  he  lists  without  having  these  busy- 
bodies  nosing  about  to  see  if  his  household  is  ordered 
in  all  respects  after  the  phaiisaical  pattern." 

The  reverend  gentleman  glanced  keenly  from  one 
to  the  other  as  he  stopped  to  take  out  his  snuff-box ; 
he  must  have  been  gratified  at  the  look  of  real 
interest  in  both  faces. 

"  But,  after  all,"  he  went  on,  tapping  the  lid  and 
offering  Frankland  a  pinch,  "  talk  is  but  talk  ;  the 
proof  of  the  pudding  is  in  the  eating.  There  is  but 
one  way  to  settle  the  matter,  and  that  is,  go  and  see 
for  yourself.  Come  down  both  of  you  and  visit  us  ! 
Your  fare  may  be  indifferent,  for  Mrs.  Price  is  slow 
in  adapting  herself  to  circumstances  :  she  can  do 
nothing  without  the  Thursday  market.  But  with  all 


282  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

its   drawbacks  —  mark   my  words  !  —  you   will   both 
come  home  converts  to  barbarism  !  " 

Frankland  gave  a  conditional  promise,  and  the 
Commissary  went  his  way,  leaving  the  case  to  the 
cogent  working  of  other  influences. 

Since  their  appearance  together  at  the  Chapel, 
public  discontent,  confined  at  first  to  whispered  cen 
sure  and  corner  mutterings,  had  gathered  the  force 
of  a  tempest,  and  now  burst  upon  the  head  of 
the  dismayed  Collector  in  an  overwhelming  torrent 
of  admonition,  protestation,  and  threat.  He  awoke 
to  the  fact  that  there  was  a  new  factor  in  the  social 
problem  of  which  he  had  never  before  been  aware. 
That  which  he  had  played  with  all  his  life  as  a  fine 
and  sounding  phrase,  now  suddenly  materialized  and 
started  up  into  terrible  life  as  a  frowning  Nemesis^ 

Pending  all  this,  whether  by  accident  or  design 
can  never  now  be  known,  came  the  Commissary 
again  with  a  more  definite  invitation.  Frankland 
promptly  accepted,  and  the  two  made  a  flying  trip  to 
the  wilderness. 

As  his  pastor  predicted,  Frankland  came  home 
full  of  enthusiasm,  and  in  the  course  of  the  first 
evening  sheepishly  confessed  to  Agnes  that  he  had 
already  made  overtures  toward  the  purchase  of  a 
plantation. 

She  listened  in  silence  to  his  glowing  justification. 

"  'T  is  plain  you  do  not  want  to  go  }*onder,'r  he 
said,  with  a  natural  interpretation  of  her  silence. 
"  You  dread  the  rough  life  of  the  wilderness." 

"  I  lived  a  rough  life  once,  and  was  happy." 

"  That  was  when  you  were  a  child." 


A   BARONET.  283 

"  Yes." 

"  And  knew  nothing  better." 

She  repressed  the  words  which  rose  to  her  lips,  and 
he  went  on  rather  nervously  and  with  constrained 
playfulness. 

"  But  now  you  are  a  spoiled  and  pampered  child 
of  luxury,  eh  ?  Trust  me,  however!  I  will  look  out 
for  your  comfort." 

She  shook  her  head  a  little  impatiently. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  "  dropping  his  light  tone. 

"  'T  is  cowardly  to  run  away." 

He  flushed.  The  answer  was  a  little  startling. 
It  availed,  moreover,  to  set  him  thinking,  for  he 
walked  up  and  down  a  long  time  in  silence. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  resuming  his  seat,  "  'twill  not 
be  pleasant  for  you  to  remain  in  this  town." 

"  Nay,  I  cannot  expect  it  should." 

"  But  it  will  be  harder  than  you  think." 

"  It  could  not  well  be  that." 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  these  busybodies  are 
greatly  aroused." 

She  nodded  as  if  expecting  to  hear  it. 

"  I  have  kept  it  from  you  because  it  seemed- to  no 
purpose  that  you  should  be  pained.  But  now  that 
this  retreat  is  open  to  you,  't  is  well  you  should  know 
the  truth.  They  flood  me  daily  with  protests  and  ex 
hortations,  —  nay,  the  rascals  have  dared  to  threaten. 
For  myself,  I  shall  never  be  at  a  loss  for  protection," 
—  with  a  rattle  of  his  sword-hilt  —  "  but  you,  I  fear, 
will  be  kept  a  prisoner  here  except  when  you  go  out 
with  me." 

Perhaps  he  expected  some  dismay  at  this  announce- 


284  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

ment,  for   he  seemed  somewhat  irritated   when  she 
quietly  answered :  — 

"They  can  do  nothing  worse  than  insult  and 
affront  me." 

"  I  know  not  that." 

"  Whatever  lengths  they  may  go,  let  us  not  be 
frighted  away,  but  stay  and  abide  the  penalty  of  our 
wrong-doing." 

"  But  they  will  not  suffer  us  to  remain." 
"  They  will  assuredly  not  molest  us  in  our  home." 
"  I    would   not    answer    for  them  —  crack-brained 
fanatics.     At  any  rate,  they  will  knit  their  beetle- 
brows,    turn    up    their   Puritanical   noses,    and   wag 

their  d d  insolent  tongues  after  us  wherever  we 

go." 

"  If,  however,  we  deserve  no  better  treatment  — 
"  'Deserve ' !  How,  tell  me,  have  we  injured  them?  " 
"We  have  made  a  law  unto  ourselves." 
"  And  in  what  does  that  injure  them  ?  " 
"•  In  the  dangerous  example  to  others,  as  it  may  be 
held." 

Again  there  was  a  pause,  and  Frankland  walked 
up  and  down. 

"  I  had  not  thought,  my  dear,  you  would  need  urg 
ing  to  leave  this  wasp's-nest;  but  I  am  rejoiced  that 
you  find  such  strength  in  yourself,  and  that  you  hold 
their  scorn  at  so  cheap  a  rate." 

"  Nay,"  covering  her  face  with  a  shudder,  "  it  is 
terrible  ! " 

"  Yet  you  would  stay  and  court  it?  " 
"  'T  is  that  I  would  suffer  rather  than  escape  my 
deserts." 


A   BARONET.  285 

"  Meantime  our  holding  out  will  be  held  an  aggra 
vation  of  the  offence." 

"  What  signifies  how  it  be  held,  if  our  motive  be 
pure  ?  " 

"  We  should,  moreover,  by  remaining,  be  perpetu 
ating  the  dangerous  example  you  tell  of.  Have  we 
any  right  to  do  that  ?  " 

Agnes  was  silent ;  perhaps  staggered  at  this  con 
sideration. 

Frankland  followed  up  his  advantage.  "  A  penalty 
imposed  by  a  high  moral  authority  one  may  bow  to, 
but  a  gratuitous  rebuke  from  these  stiff-necked  hypo 
crites,  who  are  as  full  of  secret  vices  as  an  egg  is  of 
meat  —  poh  !  poh !  My  love,  you  shall  kiss  no  such 
rod  of  discipline.  We  will  leave  them  to  their  sanc 
tity,  and  God  help  them  all !  " 

"  If  we  had  but  some  guidance  in  the  matter  —  " 

"  We  have  the  guidance  of  common-sense,  and  for 
the  rest,  I  will  take  the  responsibility.  We  cannot 
go  wrong  in  getting  from  this  into  a  purer  atmosphere 
where  Nature  shall  be  our  constant  companion  and 
the  Commissary  shall  look  after  our  souls." 

Agnes  did  not  look  reassured,  nor  at  all  convinced. 
Several  after  discussions  upon  the  same  subject  were 
to  as  little  purpose.  At  a  loss  to  sustain  her  position 
by  argument,  she  retreated  upon  conscience.  She 
knew  it  to  be  right  because  she  felt  it  to  be  right. 
Socrates  and  his  dialectics  would  retire  discomfited 
before  a  woman  intrenched  in  that  stronghold. 
Frankland  remembered  her  Puritan  training,  and 
looked  hopeless.  An  unexpected  event  suddenly 
turned  the  tables  in  his  favor. 


286  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

He  came  home  one  day  with  his  eyes  kindling,  and 
two  round  spots  glowing  upon  his  cheeks,  —  marks  of 
excitement,  one  would  have  said,  but  for  his  quiet 
manner.  His  manner,  indeed,  was  too  quiet,  and 
suggested  control.  Agnes  detected  the  change 
instantly,  and  said  :  — 

"  Something  has  happened." 

Without  a  word  he  handed  out  a  letter  sealed  with 
black.  Agnes  glanced  at  the  foreign  postmark,  the 
strange  handwriting,  and  saw  nothing  else. 

«  What  is  it  ?  " 

"Note  the  address!  " 

She  read  aloud  the  superscription :  "  Sir  Charles 
Henry  Fraukland,  Bart." 

He  looked  at  her  in  suspense.  It  seemed  a  whole 
minute  that  she  stood  puzzling  over  it.  It  dawned 
upon  her  like  a  flash  at  last,  and  she  grew  ashen 
white. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  VERDICT   AT   LITTLE   HARBOE. 

THE  death  without  issue  of  Sir  Thomas  Frank- 
land,  late  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  made  his 
nephew  over  in  America  a  baronet.  Joined  with 
the  title  were  large  proprietary  interests,  present  and 
reversionary,  dependent  upon  the  terms  of  the  will 
and  the  rights  of  the  dowager  Lady  Frankland. 

Notwithstanding  Agnes's  vague  fears,  the  prefix  to 
his  name  neither  translated  him  out  of  the  flesh  nor 
brought  with  it  any  iron  obligation  to  go  back  across 
the  sea  to  the  company  of  other  creatures  writing 
their  names  Avith  like  fantastic  flourishes.  On  the 
contrary,  he  kept  his  mortal  state,  and  with  it  certain 
human  faults  and  frailties,  among  which  need  not 
necessarily  be  counted  the  shrewdness  to  see  that  a 
comfortable  berth  under  Government,  with  a  large 
and  increasing  income,  might  come  no  more  amiss  to 
a  baronet  than  to  a  plain  esquire. 

Withal,  however,  he  took  time  for  ripe  considera 
tion  ;  saying  nothing  meanwhile  to  Agnes,  for  the 
reason,  no  doubt,  that  his  inclinations  had  not  yet 
hardened  into  resolves.  As  he  seems  to  have  been 
quite  unaware  of  her  state  of  mind,  so  she  on  her 
part  asked  him  no  questions,  nor  broached  the  matter 


288  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

in  any  way,  but  went  on  industriously  giving  rein  to 
her  imagination  and  working  herself  up  to  a  fever 
of  anxiety  which  reacted  most  unfavorably  upon  her 
convalescence.  Plainly,  Frankland  had  misinter 
preted  her  emotion  on  receipt  of  the  news,  for  he  did 
not  think  necessary  to  speak  a  reassuring  word  to  her 
during  all  the  weeks  of  deliberation. 

Oddly  enough,  his  decision  was  at  last  precipitated 
by  a  sudden  move  of  the  Commissary  in  resigning 
his  charge  at  the  King's  Chapel. 

This  step  caused  little  sensation  in  town,  for  mat 
ters  had  long  been  coming  to  a  crisis  between  Bishop 
Gibson's  lordly  deputy  and  his  contumacious  parish 
ioners.  But  it  left  the  Commissary  free  to  carry  out 
a  cherished  purpose  of  going  to  England  to  raise 
funds  for  his  infant  church  in  the  wilderness. 

In  the  course  of  his  farewell  preparations  he  went 
around  one  evening  to  Garden  Court  Street,  and  there 
made  the  suggestion  which  determined  Frankland's 
plans. 

After  listening  to  the  latter's  civil  regrets  at  his 
resignation,  he  suddenly  broke  out, — 

"  But  about  your  own  affairs,  Sir  Harry  ;  I  sup 
pose  by  this  the  new  plantation  is  contracted  for." 

"  No ;  I  must  needs  confess  the  whole  matter  is 
still  in  the  clouds." 

"  Clouds,  sir  ?  Poh  !  What 's  it  doing  so  far  out 
of  reach  ?  " 

"Indeed,"  —  a  little  sheepishly,  —  "I  have  well- 
nigh  given  up  all  thought  of  the  matter." 

"  What  has  caused  such  a  monstrous  cooling  off? 
You  came  home,  I  can  vouch  for  it,  glowing  like  a 


THE    VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.       289 

firebrand.      Come,  sir,  confess  'tis  your  new  dignity 
makes  you  so  capricious  !  " 

"  Nay,  ask  Miss  Surriage  !  " 

"  You,  madam  ?  "  turning  to  Agnes. 

"  She  will  not  hear  of  going  thither." 

"  Truly,  the  last  quarter  from  which  —  " 

The  Commissary  paused.  His  tone  was  more  sig 
nificant  than  his  words.  It  was  as  well  for  him, 
perhaps,  that  Agnes  was  too  much  engrossed  at  the 
moment  to  heed  either. 

"And  pray,  madam,  if  you  will  pardon  the  curios 
ity,  what  may  be  your  objections  ?  " 

"  I  have  none,"  faltered  Agnes,  reddening  and 
paling. 

"  None  !  "  from  the  Collector. 

"  Now,  sir,"  cried  the  triumphant  Commissary, 
"  how  are  you  put  to  shame  !  Upon  whom  will  you 
next  shift  the  responsibility  of  your  fickleness  ?  " 

"  But  —  why,  Agnes —  " 

"  I  have  considered  the  matter  more  deeply  since 
we  talked  upon  it." 

"  And  you  are  now  reconciled  to  go  yonder  to  live?" 

"  If  you  still  hold  your  purpose." 

He  stood  foolishly  staring.  From  his  point  of 
view  amazement  was  justified  ;  the  stultification  was 
quite  uncharacteristic.  She  sat  flushed  and  discom 
fited  before  him,  her  face  a  book  in  which  only  crass 
masculine  stupidity  could  fail  to  read  the  story  of  a 
power  dominant  even  over  a  Puritan  conscience. 

"  So,  Sir  Harry,  you  see  it  all  lies  with  you,"  re 
sumed  the  Commissary,  blind  to  the  private  signifi 
cances  of  the  situation. 

19 


290  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Frankland  did  not  answer,  but  went  and  leaned 
upon  the  mantel-piece,  then  over  to  the  window  and 
drummed  upon  the  glass.  Agnes's  eyes  followed 
him  in  breathless  suspense. 

The  new  bells  in  Christ  Church  tolled  the  curfew 
hour.  He  took  out  his  chronometer  mechanically, 
to  correct  any  variance. 

"  Well,  sir?"  from  the  impatient  Commissary. 

"  If  it  lies  with  me,  'tis  soon  settled." 

"Eh?" 

Agnes  half  rose  in  her  chair. 

"  I  '11  have  the  land  before  the  week  is  out." 

"  Look,  sir  !    Quick  !  the  lady  —  she  is  swooning  !  " 

But  she  was  not.  It  was  only  a  sudden  faint- 
ness  from  which  she  speedily  recovered.  Making  it, 
however,  an  excuse  for  retiring,  she  bade  Mr.  Price 
good-night  and  accepted  Frankland's  arm  to  the 
door. 

Left  to  themselves,  the  two  gentlemen  returned  to 
the  subject,  and  the  Commissary  brought  forth  his 
proposition,  which  was  an  offer  to  let  to  Frankland 
his  Hopkinton  house  during  the  year  he  was  abroad, 
as  a  good  vantage-point  from  which  to  oversee  put 
ting  in  order  the  new  plantation.  The  offer  was 
opportune  and  quite  to  Frankland's  liking,  and  no 
objection  being  now  feared  from  Agnes,  the  bargain 
was  concluded  upon  the  spot. 

Sitting  brooding  upon  the  matter  after  the  Com 
missary  went,  Frankland  was  suddenly  seized  with  a 
notion,  and  dashed  upstairs.  He  found  Agnes  in  her 
dressing-room.  Banishing  the  maid  and  hartshorn 
bottle,  he  administered  a  more  effectual  restorative. 


THE    VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.       291 

"•  Foolish  girl !  so  you  had  DO  more  faith  than  to 
think  this  change  in  fortune  was  to  take  me  away 
from  you  ?  " 

She  sought  the  nearest  cover  for  her  abashed  face, 
which  chanced  to  be  his  shoulder. 

Thus  the  fates  seemed  against  Agnes  in  her  high 
purposes.  On  the  contrary,  all  those  invisible  and 
industrious  agencies  seemed  bent  on  smoothing  the 
way  in  the  other  direction,  —  the  broad,  easy,  and 
comfortable  direction  of  flight,  in  which  she  now 
found  herself  borne  insensibly  onward. 

In  a  fortnight  they  were  packing  up  for  Hopkin- 
ton.  All  was  bustle  and  preparation.  The  change 
acted  like  a  tonic  upon  her  health ;  something  of  her 
usual  spirits  and  vigor  came  back,  as  it  seemed,  with 
the  need  of  them. 

A  print  from  an  old  pencil-drawing  still  preserved 
gives  a  very  good  notion  of  the  Commissary's  country- 
house, —  Agnes's  first  home  in  Hopkinton.  A  quaint 
wooden  structure  it  was,  with  a  hip  roof,  and  the 
front  door  entering  at  one  corner.  Embowered  in 
shrubbery,  and  surrounded  upon  two  sides  by  a  stone 
wall,  it  stood  close  upon  the  highwa}%  \vhere  was  an 
open  greensward  enclosed  between  two  cross-roads, 
with  a  guide-post  in  the  midst. 

In  this  serene  retreat,  far  from  frowning  eyes  and 
wagging  tongues,  busied  with  wholesome  toil,  cheered 
by  Frankland's  presence,  and  sharing  with  him  the 
absorbing  pleasure  of  planning  the  thousand  and  one 
details  of  their  new  home,  Agnes  had  no  opportunity 
to  be  morbid,  no  leisure  to  take  thought  of  her  own 
state,  no  time  to  be  unhappy. 


292  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

From  this  pastoral  dream  she  was  rudely  awakened. 

Frankland  came  home  from  Boston  one  day  with 
tidings  of  her  father's  death.  He  was  amazed  at  its 
effect  upon  her.  He  could  not  understand  how  it 
should  prove  so  shocking.  She  had  no  longer  any 
thing  in  common  with  her  father.  He  had  never 
been  a  companion  to  his  children,  nor,  whatever  lie 
may  have  felt,  ever  showed  that  interest  and  sym 
pathy  which  begets  mutual  confidence  and  draws 
parent  and  child  together.  All  this  she  had  often 
confessed  when  talking  of  her  early  life.  Why,  then, 
this  excessive  grief?  Thus  he  reasoned  with  her. 
She  dumbly  shook  her  head  and  made  no  answer. 
What  was  the  use  of  answer !  The  fact  that  he 
could  ask  such  a  question  showed  how  little  he 
suspected  chords  in  her  heart  struck  to  agony  by 
that  event  which  stood  for  so  much  beside  the  mortal 
release  of  one  soul. 

The  news  had  been  some  time  upon  the  road. 
There  was  doubt  if  she  could  arrive  in  time  for  the 
funeral.  Despite  some  expostulation  from  Frank- 
land,  she  set  out  early  the  next  morning  to  make 
the  attempt.  He  accompanied  her  as  far  as  Boston, 
whence,  provided  with  fresh  horses,  she  went  on 
alone  to  Maiblehead. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  she  entered  the 
little  town.  A  welcoming  breeze  blew  up  from  the 
sea,  cooling  her  hot  cheeks  and  tossing  about  her  hair 
as  she  surmounted  the  ridge  overlooking  the  harbor. 
Unconsciously  she  drew  her  lungs  full  of  the  honest 
salt  vapor.  She  looked  abroad  over  the  little  town  ; 
the  sinking  sun  lit  up  the  western  fronts  and  gables 


THE    VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.       293 

into  sharp  prominence,  and  threw  long  shadows  across 
the  narrow  streets  and  down  the  eastern  slopes  to  the 
little  harbor  where  the  ships  lay  rocking  and  nodding 
about  like  a  lot  of  old  gossips  having  a  twilight  gabble, 
-the "same  old  features,  yet  how  shrunk  and  shriv 
elled  ;  and  with  what  changed  eyes  she  had  come  back 
to  them !  All  that  belonged  to  Nature,  —  the  sky,  the 
sea,  the  rocks,  the  distant  hills,  —  so  vast,  so  expan 
sive,  and  filled  with  freshest  life !  All  that  belonged 
to  man,  so  cramped,  mean,  squalid,  and  decaying ! 

Long  accustomed  to  the  luxury  and  elegance  of  her 
appointments,  Agnes  quite  forgot  the  impression  they 
must  needs  make  upon  her  former  townsmen.  Busied 
with  larger  thoughts,  she  rolled  along  through  the 
crooked  streets  quite  oblivious  of  the  sensation  she 
created  until  awakened  to  the  fact  by  some  comment 
from  the  gaping  crowd  as  she  neared  her  mother's  cot 
tage.  Then,  suddenly  changing  her  destination,  she 
went  thundering  up  the  rocky  steep  to  the  shabby 
little  door  of  the  Fountain. 

Goodman  Salkins  stood  lazily  smoking  a  pipe  in 
the  doorway.  Overcome  for  a  moment  by  the  sudden 
appearance  of  a  coach  and  four,  he  stood  stupidly 
staring  at  them  until,  called  to  himself  by  a  sharp 
challenge  from  the  footman,  he  came  forward,  duck 
ing  and  scraping,  hat  in  hand,  to  usher  in  the  grand 
lady  in  whom  he  failed  to  recognize  his  barefooted 
kitchen  wench  of  former  years. 

Intent  only  upon  her  errand,  Agnes  greeted  him  as 
though  they  had  parted  but  yesterday. 

"  Am  I  in  time  ?  " 

"  Heigh  ?  " 


294  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  For  the  funeral  ?  " 

"Funneral  — ye?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  father  ;  is  he  buried  yet  ?  " 

"  Por-rdon,  me  leddy,  oi  'm  growin'  old,  'n'  a  bit 
wull-gotherin'  i'  my  wits;  who  is  't  ye 're  talkin'  o'?" 

"  Why,  my  own  father,  man  ;  dead  and  gone." 

"  Yer  for-rther,  said  ye  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  turning  to  look  across  the  cove.  "  Who  are 
those  yonder  about  the  house?  That  may  be  the  fun 
eral  now.  See,  there  are  more  coming  ;  it  must  be 
so.  Goodman  Salkins,  look  you  attend  to  these  men 
and  horses  ;  give  them  the  best  you  have  !  For  my 
self,  I  will  stay  yonder  with  my  mother." 

"  Yer  mother-r !  Never-r  tell  me  yer  our  old  Ag 
Surriage  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  impatiently  ;  "  and  I  must  make  haste 
over  yonder.  I  am  perhaps  too  late  already." 

"  No,  no,  yer  i'  toime,  never-r  fear.  The  berryin' 
was  put  off  fur  ye ;  folks  doubted  'f  ye  'd  come,  a' 
but  Goody  Surriage.  She  stuck  stoutly  to  't  ye  'd  be 
her',  'n'  her'  ye  be!  Eh,  to  think  o'  yer  bein'  Ag 
Surriage  !  Ye  'd  not  loike,  mebbe,  to  bring  back  th' 
old  toimes  now  37e  ha'  grown  so  gr-rond !  Oh,  never-r 
fret !  ye  '11  be  i'  toime,  oi  tell  ye  !  An'  so  ye  're  our-r 
Ag !  Goodness  'n'  mer-rcy !  ye  ha'  coome  up  into  a 
foine  shape  !  Her'  '11  be  yer  best  way;  th'  old  path 
is  given  up-;  they  ha'  blosted  th'  r-rock  yonder-r  — 
see !  Eh,  but  ye  wor  a  sure-footed  little  hussy  i' 
those  toimes  ;  oi  'd  never-r  a  one  loike  ye  since,  for 
war-rk.  Take  yer  toime  ;  ther  's  no  haste,  oi  soy  !  " 

Unheeding  the  garrulous  old  man,  Agnes  hastened 
to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  gathering  up  her  skirts 


THE    VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.       295 

tripped  down  the  rude  steps  cut  in  the  rock  to  the 
beach,  and  made  her  way  quickly  around  the  little 
cove  to  her  mother's  door. 

Gathered  about  the  entrance  was  a  little  group  of 
fishermen  talking  in  low  tones,  who  at  her  approach 
hastened  in  some  precipitation  to  make  way,  and 
gazed  after  her  with  muttered  comments  of  curiosity 
and  interest. 

She  stopped  upon  the  threshold  of  the  little  cabin 
and  looked  about  with  a  hesitating  air. 

It  was  a  gloomy  interior.  The  walls  and  ceiling, 
blackened  with  the  smoke  and  soot  of  a  generation, 
gave  a  sombre  look  to  the  little  living-room,  which 
was  dimly  lighted  by  two  small  windows.  Other 
wise,  it  had  an  air  of  decency  ;  the  rough  floor  had 
been  scrubbed  to  cleanliness,  the  fireplace  filled  with 
hemlock  boughs,  and  a  sheet  pinned  across  the  lower 
end  of  the  room,  hiding  the  little  flock-bed  and  a 
litter  of  utensils  which  had  been  hastily  thrust  aside. 
Chairs  of  divers  patterns  had  been  brought  in  from 
the  neighbors' ;  a  table  stood  against  the  wall,  covered 
with  a  coarse  white  cloth,  and  furnished  with  jugs  of 
beer  and  cider,  bread  and  cheese,  salted  beef,  and 
seed-cakes. 

Over  against  the  pinned-up  sheet  stood  the  coffin 
on  a  rude  trestle.  A  woman  sat  near,  fanning  away 
the  swarming  flies  with  a  bough.  Other  women 
stood  about  the  room. 

Oblivious  of  the  humanity,  —  the  staring  women, 
and  the  men  peering  in  through  the  door,  —  Agnes 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the  coffin,  and  laid 
her  head  on  the  dead  man's  bosom. 


296  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

After  a  space  she  rose,  and  gazed  intently  down 
upon  the  still  face,  —  an  honest  face  enough,  in  which 
there  was  no  evil,  nor  much  of  good  either,  the  sor 
did  lines  telling  merely  of  small  interests  and  dull 
intelligence.  The  soul  gone  forth  had,  it  would 
seem,  never  been  half  kindled  in  the  man ;  and  so, 
after  glimmering  and  smouldering  for  half  a  century, 
had  flickered  out  from  inanition. 

Some  vague  impression  of  this  came  to  Agnes  as 
she  stood  with  ripened  intelligence  studying  the  face 
she  had  once  thought  so  wise  and  strong ;  and  as  if 
with  a  sudden  pang  at  the  unfilial  thought,  she 
stooped  and  tenderly  kissed  the  rough  hands,  — 
hands  which  death  itself  had  failed  to  whiten,  with 
their  begrimed  nails  and  scars  and  stains  of  toil. 

Thus  she  stood,  unconscious  of  anything  in  the 
room  but  the  Silent  Presence  before  her.  The  women 
gathered  in  a  group,  whispered,  and  looked  askance. 
Her  air  of  distinction,  her  rich  dress,  her  white, 
jewelled  hands,  her  silent  grief,  left  no  doubt  of  her 
identity.  Word  was  soon  passed  to  Goody  Surriage, 
who  came  hurrying  from  the  small  bedroom  where 
she  was  seated  with  her  children. 

"  Oh,  Ag,  Ag !  are  ye  come  home  ?  Oi  feared  ye 
moight  n't  get  wor-rd.  Oi  ha'  been  waitin'  'n'  longin' 
fur  ye.  Oh,  my  choild,  my  poor  choild  I  ye  ha'  no 
for-rther  now!  He's  gone,  Ag;  we'll  ha'  him  no 
more.  He  talked  o'  ye,  Ag,  —  often  'n'  often  he  talked 
o'  ye.  An  he  could  but  know  ye  ha'  come  home  to 
us  an'  are  lookin'  down  on  him  now !  But  he  cannot 
see,  poor  dear !  he  '11  never-r  see  nor  hear-r  us  agin, 
never-r!  never-r!  never-r!  Oh,  Ag,  Ag!  my  her-rt  is 


THE    VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.       297 

broke  wi'  sorrow !  A  good  mon  he  was,  so  koind  'n' 
peaceable  ;  ther'  wor  never-r  a  koinder.  An  oi  could 
but  ha'  him  back  a  minute's  toime  to  say  oi  'm  sorry 
fur  a'  th'  hor-rd  wor-rds  oi  ha'  given  him  ;  but  they 
wor  not  mony  o'  late.  Forther-r  in  Heaven,  forgi' 
us  ;  we  ha'  wor-rnin'  by  this  to  bridle  our  tongues  an' 
leave  the  choidin'  to  Thysel' ! " 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  little  bustle  outside, 
and  the  minister  entered,  followed  directly  by  the 
fishermen,  nearly  filling  the  little  room. 

"Sh!  her' be  the  minister-r,  Ag  !  Good-day,  sir-r; 
this  be  my  choild,  my  own  choild,  sir-r,  though  ye  'd 
never-r  believe 't,  come  home  to — to  her  poor  for-rther's 
berryin',"  with  a  loud  burst  of  sobs. 

Agnes  courtesied  with  reverence,  and  dropped  her 
eyes  before  the  austere  gaze  of  the  preacher. 

One  of  the  women  came  and  whispered  in  his  ear. 
Presently  he  took  a  Bible  from  his  pocket  and  cleared 
his  throat  as  if  to  begin  the  service,  when  directly 
Goody  Surriage  precipitated  herself  with  loud  sobs 
upon  the  coffin. 

"  Oh,  Ed,  Ed  !  they're  makin'  ready  to  take  ye  away 
fro'  me.  Look  up!  Open  yer  oi  'n'  look  up  at  me, 
mon!  'tis  the  last  chance —  See  him  now!  He  can 
not  be  dead,  sure,  wi'  that  look  loike  a  choild  that 
has  fallen  asleep.  Ed,  Ed !  will  ye  riot  speak  to  me 
when  my  her'rt  is  breakin'  ?  " 

Led  away  by  Agnes  and  one  of  the  neighbors  into 
the  other  room,  the  poor  dame  broke  forth  into  a  fresh 
fit  of  sobbing  which  quite  drowned  the  preacher's 
voice. 

After  the  service  the  whole  company  proceeded  on 


298  AGNES   SUR1UAGE. 

foot  to  the  old  burying-ground  upon  the  hill,  —  the 
fishermen  reverently  bearing  the  body  of  their  late 
comrade,  and  all  looking  on  while  the  shallow  grave 
was  filled  and  the  sexton  pounded  snugly  into  place 
the  covering  of  green  sods. 

Coming  home  in  the  fast-fading  twilight,  they  found 
the  table  spread  for  supper,  the  windows  thrown  open, 
flowers  placed  about,  and  every  effort  made  to  give  a 
look  of  cheer  to  the  little  cabin. 

Agnes  sat  upon  the  bench  outside  the  door,  and  the 
sobbing  dame,  drying  her  eyes,  bustled  about,  return 
ing  things  borrowed  for  the  funeral,  thanking  her 
neighbors  for  their  kind  offices,  and  now  and  then 
bringing  forth  some  reluctant  fishwife  to  Agnes, 
with,  — 

"  Her'  's  Goody  Tibbets,  Ag," — or  Goody  Cooper, 
or  Goody  Hubbard,  —  "  old  acquaintance  they  be  ; 
they  mind  ye  when  ye  wor  a  little  hussy." 

The  women,  though  gazing  upon  Agnes  as  if  from 
irresistible  fascination,  seemed  inclined  to  hold  no 
converse  with  her,  and  were  uneasy  to  be  gone.  With 
her  brothers  and  sisters  she  made  no  better  headway. 
They  were  so  much  in  awe  of  her,  and  so  uncomfort 
able  at  her  overtures,  that  at  last  she  was  fain  to 
desist.  Supper  over,  the  last  of  the  neighbors  with 
drew,  and  the  rest  of  the  family  presently  retired,  leav 
ing  Agnes  alone  with  her  mother.  They  sat  together 
upon  the  bench  outside  the  door.  It  had  been  the 
dead  man's  favorite  seat.  The  recollection  of  this 
brought  on  a  fresh  accession  of  grief  from  the  dame, 
who  now,  secure  of  a  sympathetic  listener,  poured 
forth  a  history  of  her  husband's  illness,  and,  continu- 


THE    VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.       299 

ing  backwards,  of  all  her  own  trials  and  sufferings 
since  they  had  last  met.  Recurring  at  length  to  her 
present  destitute  condition,  deprived  of  her  husband 
and  getting  too  old  to  work,  she  excited  her  own 
sympathies  to  such  a  degree  that  she  wept  herself 
asleep  upon  Agnes's  shoulder. 

Disengaging  herself  after  a  space  from  her  heavy 
burden,  Agnes  brought  a  shawl  to  cover  the  sleeping 
woman,  and  stole  gently  away.  The  moon  had  risen, 
and  the  sea  shone  like  silver  beneath  its  rays.  Save 
for  the  splashing  of  the  waves  upon  the  beach,  or  the 
echoing  footsteps  of  the  sentinel  making  his  solitary 
round  at  the  fort  above,  deep  silence  brooded  over 
the  little  cove. 

Agnes  paced  back  and  forth  upon  the  sands ;  it 
was  like  returning  in  a  dream  to  the  long-lost  life  of 
childhood.  By  and  by  she  climbed  the  rocks  and 
passed  before  the  little  inn.  Quaint  and  pretty  it 
looked  in  its  midnight  guise,  all  its  shabbiness  sil 
vered  over  by  the  cheating  moon.  Pausing  at  the 
well,  she  looked  down  into  its  black  depths  and 
waked  the  slumbering  pool  with  a  falling  pebble. 
Wandering  on,  she  mounted  again  to  the  old  church 
yard,  and  threaded  her  way  in  and  out  among  the 
crowded  mounds  to  the  hoar  willow  by  Goody  Latti- 
more's  grave,  where  she  had  so  often  sat  with  Job. 
There,  too  vividly  perhaps,  came  back  to  her  thoughts 
of  the  sturdy  loyalty  and  devotion  of  him  now  wan 
dering,  she  knew  not  where,  upon  the  wide  ocean  or 
in  foreign  lands ;  for  she  started  up  with  a  sudden 
groan,  and  walked  back  and  forth  with  hands  pressed 
to  her  bosom.  Moved  by  a  sudden  impulse,  she 


300  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

stooped  and  scraped  with  her  ring  a  strip  of  lichen 
from  the  hard  blue  headstone,  and  hurried  away. 

Coming  to  her  father's  grave,  she  threw  herself 
down  upon  the  fresh  turf  and  gave  way  to  tears. 
Relieved  by  this  natural  outburst,  she  went  back 
in  chastened  mood  to  keep  vigil  over  her  sleeping 
mother. 

Next  day  she  made  more  hopeful  advance  with  her 
brothers  and  sisters.  What  with  the  dame's  co 
operation,  and  her  own  kindly  manner,  she  prevailed 
over  their  shyness  to  talk  with  her  without  con 
straint,  and  confide  in  her  as  to  their  plans  and  pur 
poses, —  a  confidence  which,  it  is  said,  they  never 
regretted.  When  it  came  time  for  her  to  set  out 
for  home,  dreading  perhaps  to  go  back  to  the  little 
inn,  she  sent  for  the  coach,  and  started  from  her 
mother's  door. 

The  whole  business  of  the  little  world  round  about 
came  to  a  standstill  pending  her  departure.  Good 
man  Salkins,  with  his  cook,  barmaid,  and  hostler, 
stared  across  from  the  doorstep  of  the  Fountain  ; 
the  skippers  on  the  vessels  in  the  cove  paused  in  the 
management  of  their  craft ;  the  fishermen  on  the 
shore  dropped  their  tools ;  the  housewives  peered 
forth  from  their  cabin  doors ;  and  the  children  gath 
ered  in  a  gaping  group  about  the  Surriage  cabin,  — 
ever}7"  eye  intent  upon  the  solitary  figure  sitting  erect 
in  the  grand  equipage,  while  the  inconsolable  dame, 
holding  fast  her  daughter's  hand,  clung  to  the  car 
riage-door  and  cried  between  her  sobs :  — 

"  Oh,  Ag,  my  choild !  how  can  oi  ever-r  let  ye  go 
fro'  me?  Oi'll  never-r  see  ye  agin, — never-r,  never-r. 


THE   VERDICT  AT  LITTLE  HARBOR.      301 

oi  won't.  All  are  leavin'  me,  —  a'  an'  everybody. 
Ah,  ye  're  my  own  choild,  whatever  comes.  Oi  ha' 
brought  ye  into  th'  war-rid,  V  oi  ha'  given  suck  to 
ye,  'n'  oi  '11  not  believe  hor-rin  o'  ye.  'T  is  not  fur  us 
poor  sinfu'  creatures  to  judge  one  auother-r.  They 
tell  str-range  stories  about  ye,  gir-rl,  an'  say  shame- 
fu'  things;  but  oi '11  not  believe  'em,  Ag;  yer  old 
mother-r  '11  never-r  believe  'em." 

"  They  are  true  !  " 

"Eh?" 

"  Those  shameful  stories  are  all  true  !  " 

"  Forther-r  o'  Mer-rcies  !  " 

"  Nothing  can  be  said  of  me  worse  than  the  simple 
truth."  She  brushed  back  the  straggling  gray  hairs 
and  laid  her  cheek  upon  her  mother's  wrinkled 
forehead. 

"  Oh,  Ag  —  Ag,  't  is  not  the  truth  ;  oi  '11  not 
believe  it !  " 

"  Yes,  God  pity  and  help  you,  my  dear  —  dear  — 
dear  mother,  it  is  the  truth !  " 

"  Stop !  stop !  ye  '11  break  my  her-rt !  " 

"  I  will  stop.  I  will  go  away.  Pray  that  you  may 
never  see  me  again !  Think  of  me  henceforth  only 
as  a  shame  and  disgrace  to  you  and  to  him  we  yes 
terday  laid  to  rest !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  HUNTING-PARTY. 

LONG  celebrated  in  song  and  story,  Frankland's 
place  at  Hopkinton  is  distinctly  remembered 
by  many  still  living.  Imagination  gladly  yields  the 
rein  to  Reality  in  setting  it  forth.  Let  no  latter-day 
visitor,  however,  who  would  not  be  grievously  dis 
appointed,  seek  to  realize  for  himself  the  charm  of 
the  following  picture,  drawn  by  one  familiar  with 
the  place  before  fire  and  decay  had  wrought  their 
devastating  work  :  — 

"  The  tract  lies  along  the  southern  and  western  slope  of  a 
noble  eminence  called  in  the  Nipmuck  tongue  Magunco,  or 
'  the  place  of  the  great  trees,'  where  the  celebrated  John  Eliot 
had  in  eajiier  times  an  Indian  church.  The  summit  of  the 
hill,  now  covered  with  a  fine  growth  of  thrifty  chestnut, 
commands  a  view  of  the  peak  of  the  Wachusett  and  Monad- 
nock  mountains  on  the  northwest ;  of  the  beautiful  village  of 
Hopkinton  and  Hayden  Row  on  the  southwest ;  of  a  rich 
and  varied  landscape  on  the  south  ;  and  of  the  charming  vil 
lage  of  Ashland  in  the  valley  where  the  Concord  River  and 
the  Cold  Springs  blend  their  waters  in  the  east.  The  hill 
side  to  the  south  and  west  abounds  in  cool  and  gushing 
springlets,  which,  leaving  lines  of  freshest  verdure  in  their 
course,  unite  and  form  a  brook  well  stored  with  trout,  and 


A   HUNTING-PARTY.  303 

large  enough  to  turn  a  mill ;  and  which,  sweeping  round  the 
southeastern  base  of  Magunco,  passes  through  a  pleasant 
valley  into  the  Cold  Spring  stream. 

"  On  an  eligible  and  commanding  site  upon  the  south 
western  inclination  of  this  Indian  hill  the  baronet  erected  a 
commodious  manor-house ;  reduced  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  acres  of  his  land  to  tillage ;  planted  an  extensive 
orchard ;  built  a  costly  barn  one  hundred  feet  in  length  and 
surmounted  by  a  cupola,  a  granary,  which  was  set  upon 
elaborately  wrought  freestone  pillars,  and  houses  for  his  ser 
vants,  which  were  equal  to  those  of  many  of  the  farmers 
in  the  neighborhood.  Having  a  taste  for  horticulture,  he 
introduced  a  great  variety  of  the  choicest  fruit,  such  as 
apples,  pears,  plums,  peaches  of  excellent  quality,  apricots 
and  quinces  from  England  ;  and  having  an  eye  for  beauty, 
he  set  out  elms  and  other  ornamental  trees  upon  his  grounds, 
and  embellished  his  walks  and  garden  with  the  box,  the 
lilac,  hawthorn,  and  the  rose  ;  some  portion  of  this  shrubbery 
still  blooms  as  beautifully  as  when  George  II.  sat  upon  the 
throne. 

"  The  mansion  was  large  and  strongly  built.  It  stood  at 
some  distance  from  the  main  road,  and  was  approached  by 
a  noble  avenue  cut  through  the  chestnut  forest  and  by  a 
flower-garden  tastefully  arranged  in  front.  The  spacious 
hall,  sustained  by  fluted  columns,  was  hung  with  tapestry 
richly  ornamented  with  dark  figures  on  a  ground  of  deepest 
green,  —  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times.  The  chim 
ney-pieces  were  of  Italian  marble,  and  cornices  of  stucco- 
work  and  other  costly  finishing  embellished  the  parlor, 
ante-rooms,  and  chambers. 

"The  grounds  immediately  around  the  house  were 
formed  into  terraces  by  the  hands  of  slaves,  and  the  waters 
from  the  living  springs  above  clothed  them  in  liveliest 
verdure." 


304  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

As  may  be  believed,  time  was  needed  to  set  up 
such  an  establishment  so  far  from  town.  There 
was  brain-work  and  hand-work  enough  and  to  spare 
for  both  the  busy  builders ;  and  in  thus  watch 
ing  its  slow  growth  from  stage  to  stage,  a  feeling 
of  ownership  was  naturally  enough  engendered,  so 
that  when  at  last  Agnes  stepped  into  the  com 
pleted  house,  it  was  like  a  bird  settling  into  its  nest 
with  the  true  sense  of  belonging  which  inheres  in  a 
home. 

So  insensibly,  moreover,  the  bustle  of  preparation 
subsided  into  the  routine  of  life  that  the  opportunity 
which  there  is  reason  to  believe  she  awaited  for  en 
tering  upon  a  season  of  self-examination  and  penance 
seemed  never  to  arrive.  Life  blossomed  about  her 
in  fulness  of  beauty  ;  an  atmosphere  of  luxury  shut 
out  all  sordid  reminders  of  toil  and  care.  A  spirit 
of  peace,  bequeathed  as  it  were  by  the  old  Indian 
apostle,  pervaded  the  sacred  hill  and  far-stretching 
valley.  Nature  was  her  only  neighbor  ;  and  Nature, 
far  from  making  her  reproaches,  welcomed  her  with 
largest  sympathy.  The  sky  arched  tenderly  and  mys 
teriously  above  her,  the  sun  every  morning  lighted 
up  anew  the  outspread  panorama,  the  wind  brought 
the  perfume  of  the  fields  and  the  thousand-voiced 
anthem  of  the  forest  to  gladden  every  sense,  while 
love,  tender,  steadfast,  and  devoted,  crowned  the 
whole. 

Thus,  hedged  about  with  every  favoring  circum 
stance,  doubt  and  misgiving  gained  no  admission  to 
her  mind.  By  degrees,  too,  despite  some  futile  prob 
ing,  a  certain  numb  pain  within  dwindled  to  a  vague 


A   HUNTING-PARTY.  305 

unrest,  which  however,  though  often  put  to  flight, 
still  persistently  returned  to  haunt  the  heart  where 
it  late  held  sway. 

These  moments  of  pensiveness  were  not  unnoted 
by  Frankland. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  my  dear? "  catching 
her  one  day  in  such  a  mood. 

She  looked  detected  and  stammered  in  reply, — 

"  Of —  why,  nothing  of  moment." 

"Nay,  but  of  what?" 

"  To  what  purpose  repeat  such  random  thoughts  ?  " 

"But  if  I  am  concerned  to  know?"  somewhat 
piqued. 

"How  should  you  be  concerned?" 

"  As  I  must  needs  be  by  everything  that  affects 
your  happiness  ;  there  was  sadness  in  your  look. 
Confess  it  —  come,  you  shall  not  escape  me  !  " 

"I  —  I  was  thinking,"  in  some  confusion,  "I  ought 
not —  't  is  wicked  in  me  to  be  so  happy  !  " 

"  Ay,  I  mistrusted  some  such  folly,  and  I  will 
tell  you  the  secret  of  it :  't  is  that  you  have  not  enough 
to  do.  When  we  were  busy  ordering  our  household 
you  had  no  time  for  the  like  whimsies.  Now,  my 
dear,  I  will  propose  a  cure." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  suspense. 

"  We  will  have  a  party  ;  't  is  time  I  had  my  friends 
down  from  town.  They  are  curious  about  the  planta 
tion,  and  I  have  constant  upbraidings  for  my  niggard 
hospitality." 

"  But —  "  with  a  look  of  dismay. 

"Eh?" 

"I  — I—" 

20 


306  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"You  would  not  have  them  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  —  only  I  shall  be  at  a  loss  how  to  be 
have  with  so  many  gentlemen." 

"  If  you  have  not  a  mind,  they  shall  not  come." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  but  I  have  ;  they  shall  come  ;  I  would 
rather  have  them.  Pardon  me,  't  was  but  a  passing 
consternation." 

"  But  that  I  know  't  will  be  best  for  you,  I  would 
not  press  the  point ;  but  these  will  be  men  of  wit 
and  understanding, — none  of  those  fools  from  yonder 
Saints'  Rest." 

"  If  they  be  your  friends,  dear  sir,  they  shall  be 
welcome." 

"  They  shall  be  your  friends,  and  welcome  for 
their  own  sakes,  I  promise  you,  before  any  long  ac 
quaintance.  Wait  a  bit  —  let  us  see!"  —  drawing 
forth  a  pocket-tablet  and  writing  the  names  as  he 
talked, —  "there  will  be,  Brinley,  Lyde,  Cradock, 
are  three  ;  Sheafe,  four ;  Auchmuty  and  Overing, 
six  ;  and  ourselves,  eight,  —  two  tables  of  whist  for 
the  evenings." 

"  Oh,  but  find,  I  beg,  some  other  man  to  make  up 
the  whist !  I  shall  be  ill  at  ease  among  such  an  array 
of  masculines !  " 

"  Very  well,  then,  let  us  have  over  the  Commissary ; 
they  are  all  old  friends,  and  have  not  met,  I  'm  sure, 
since  he  came  home  from  England. " 

And  so  it  was  concluded  ;  the  invitations  were  sent 
and  eagerly  accepted,  and  Sir  Harry's  hunting-party 
was  in  a  small  way  the  talk  of  the  town. 

Agnes  received  her  guests  with  quiet  dignity,  yet 
with  a  particularity  of  manner  which  was  significant : 


A    HUNTING-PARTY.  307 

a  certain  neutral  look,  that  is,  which  she  bent  upon 
each  as  he  was  presented,  and  a  little  delay  in  her 
salute  as  if  leaving  it  to  the  stranger  to  strike  the 
key-note  of  their  after  intercourse,  whether  of  cor 
diality  or  reserve.  One  would  think  she  could  not 
have  been  left  long  in  doubt  upon  this  occasion. 

"  Madam,  I  am  most  honored  with  your  acquaint 
ance." 

"  A  privilege  I  have  long  craved." 

"  Report  does  but  small  justice,  after  all,  to  such 
perfections,"  with  a  supplemental  stare  of  admiration. 

"  Count  another,  madam,  from  this  day,  in  the 
number  of  your  ardent  admirers  !  " 

"  Ah,  Sir  Harry,  sly  dog  that  you  are,  to  hide  such 
a  paragon  down  here  in  the  wilderness !  " 

"The  one  charm,  madam,  lacking  to  complete  this 
place  a  paradise,  is  here,  I  find,  supplied,"  pressing 
her  hand. 

Agnes  listened  with  an  air  of  endurance,  not  very 
appreciative,  it  seemed,  of  such  very  handsome  com 
pliments,  and  afterwards  was  with  difficulty  persuaded 
to  make  one  at  the  hunt. 

The  hunt  was  successful,  and  lasted  several  days, 
during  which  the  depths  of  the  forest  where  aforetime 
old  Pomaham  led  his  band  of  praying  Indians  rang 
with  the  baying  of  the  dogs  and  the  sharp  crack  of 
the  sportsman's  gun. 

But  a  sudden  storm  put  an  end  to  the  sport.  The 
merry  gentlemen  got  up  one  morning  to  find  them 
selves  prisoners.  Ruefully  enough  they  looked  from 
the  windows  upon  the  vista  of  dripping  trees,  the 
avenue  washed  into  gullies,  the  water-spouts  spurting 


308  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

streams  at  every  corner,  the  dejected  poultry  huddled 
beneath  the  shed,  and  the  weather-vane  pointing  per 
sistently  east. 

Thereupon  the  indoor  resources  of  the  establish 
ment  were  called  into  play.  Agnes  engaged  the 
Commissary  in  a  game  of  backgammon,  while  Frank- 
land  took  away  the  more  volatile  spirits  to  the  barn, 
where  with  the  big  doors  opened  to  the  south  they 
pitched  quoits  and  had  jumping-matches,  talked 
politics  and  real  estate,  and  between  times  lolled 
upon  the  hay  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  rain  upon 
the  roof,  the  stamping  of  the  horses,  the  cooing  of 
the  pigeons  in  the  loft,  and  the  grunting  of  the  pigs 
in  the  cellar,  —  a  rural  concert  curious  and  novel  to 
town -bred  ears. 

In  the  afternoon  came  an  unexpected  diversion. 
As  the  gentlemen  sat  over  their  wine  after  dinner,  a 
wagon  drove  up  with  a  heavy  box  which  two  slaves 
presently  came  dragging  into  the  hall. 

"  A  hammer  and  chisel,  there,  quick,  and  off  with 
the  cover ! "  said  Frankland,  coming  out.  Then, 
before  his  order  could  be  executed,  suspecting  the 
contents :  "  Bravo !  here  you  are,  gentlemen !  Agnes, 
love!" 

The  company  came  trooping  from  the  dining-room 
and  Agnes  from  the  harpsichord. 

"  An  invoice  of  books  from  London !  Come  !  every 
one  shall  have  a  finger  in  the  pie  of  unpacking !  " 

All  gathered  eagerly  about  as  their  busy  host  tore 
away  the  heavy  wrapping-paper  and  passed  out  to 
the  right  and  left  the  upper  layer  of  books. 

"What  have  we  to  begin  with?"   stripping  the 


A    HUNTING-PARTY.  309 

cover   from   one   in    his   hand.     '"Essay  on  Criti 


cism.'  ' 


" '  Dunciad.' ': 

"'The  Iliad.'" 

"  '  Rape  of  the  Lock.'  " 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure,  the  new  Pope,  Warburton's  edi 
tion.  Here  are  more  ;  there  should  be  nine  volumes. 
'Tis  but  just  out,  and  has  set  everybody  to  reading 
the  great  Alexander." 

"  Yes,"  spoke  up  the  Commissary  ;  "  I  came  away 
from  London  in  the  full  tide  of  it." 

"But  'tis  said  the  enthusiasm  is  quite  extraordi 
nary, —  far  greater,  indeed,  than  when  the  little  man 
was  alive." 

"Naturally  enough,  too;  'tis  the  first  time  his 
works  have  been  presented  as  a  whole." 

"  'T  were  a  pity,  indeed,"  put  in  Auchmuty,  "  if  he 
should  be  forgotten  before  he  is  cold  in  the  grave  ! " 

"Cold,  sir!"  from  a  memory  fiend;  "he  is  nearly 
ten  years  dead." 

"  '  Ten  years ' !  and  what  is  that  but  a  wag  of  the 
historical  pendulum  ?  "  returned  Auchmuty,  standing 
by  his  point.  "  His  fame  should  properly  be  on  the 
rise  ;  there  was  never  one  lived  like  him,  nor  ever 
will  be  another  so  crammed  with  genius." 

"  Poh,  sir !  Who  knows  what  the  future  may 
bring?"  said  some  doubter. 

"  Let  it  produce  the  greatest  prodigy,  yet  he  can 
not  go  beyond  Pope  in  wit  and  elegance." 

"  No,  nor  in  profundity  of  thought." 

"  Nor  felicity  of  diction." 

"  Nor  music  of  numbers." 


310  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Nor  brilliancy  of  antithesis." 

The  chorus  of  voices  was  unanimous,  and  the 
Commissary  summed  up  :  — 

"No,  he  must  ever  remain  the  great  master  of 
English  verse." 

Whereupon  there  was  such  a  murmur  of  assent  and 
general  wagging  of  heads  as  silenced  the  doubter. 

"  What  next,  gentlemen  ?  "  said  Frankland,  pass 
ing  out  more  books. 

"  '  Cato.'  " 

"  Yes ;  and  that,"  turning  about  with  an  air  of  irri 
tation,  "is  to  complete  my  set  of  Addison,  broken, 
mark  you,  by  some  wretch  of  a  borrower  who  has 
the  hardihood  to  keep  a  volume  with  my  book-plate 
on  the  cover.  What  have  you,  Sheafe  ?  " 

"  Steele." 

"  I  warrant  you.  That  designing  bookseller  prac 
tises  upon  my  weakness  for  Bickerstaff,  and  will  be 
always  slipping  in  something  of  Sir  Richard's.  What 
is  it  now  ! " 

"  '  The  Tender  Husband '  and  '  The  Conscious 
Lovers.'  " 

"  Bound  in  one  ?  Take  it  home,  with  my  compli 
ments;  I  have  them  both  on  the  shelf.  Eh,  Brinley  ?  " 

"  '  Tom  Jones ' !  " 

"  Never  !  Bravo  !  't  has  come  then,  at  last.  That 
book  is  several  years  out,  and  I  give  you  my  word 
this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  able  to  lay  clutch 
on  it." 

"  'T  is  clever,"  said  the  Commissary,  in  a  tone  im 
plying  reserves. 

"I   believe   you,  indeed.     'Tis  held   by  the  best 


A   HUNTING-PARTY.  311 

judges  in  England  a  masterpiece,  and  that  nothing 
has  ever  been  produced  in  that  vein  in  the  least 
degree  approaching  it." 

"  Always  excepting  '  Clarissa  Harlowe,' "  said  a 
voice  from  behind. 

"Right,  Mr.  Cradock ;  Richardson  stands  at  the 
head." 

Auchmuty's  dogmatism  brought  Frankland  out  of 
the  box  to  debate  the  point. 

"  Richardson !  Why,  to  be  sure,  Richardson  has 
parts,  but  he  plainly  falls  short  of  genius.  His  vein 
of  wit  is  tenuous  to  begin  with,  and  you  must  allow 
he  spins  it  out  to  prodigious  fineness.  Then  his 
divine  Clarissa  tires  you  out  with  her  eternal 
preaching." 

"Egad  !  Sir  Harry," — from  a  bibulous  voice  at  his 
side,  —  "I  suspect  you  rather  of  sympathizing  with 
Lovelace." 

Arch  glances  were  exchanged  between  several  of 
the  gentlemen. 

"  But,"  continued  the  convivial  gentleman,  noting 
the  effect  of  his  sally,  "having  yourself  been  more 
successful  than  Richardson's  hero  —  " 

"Sh!" 

"  Silence,  sir ! "  in  an  undertone,  from  the  Com 
missary. 

Frankland  bit  his  lip  and  glanced  anxiously  at 
Agnes. 

She  made  no  pretence  of  unconsciousness,  but 
wore  the  look  of  calm  endurance  before  described. 

"'Tis  not  a  matter  of  wit  alone,  sir,"  went  on 
Auchmuty,  intent  on  his  point,  and  quite  blind  to  the 


312  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

fact  that  he  had  passed  over  a  social  whirlpool ; 
"  there  is  his  great  ingenuity,  his  grace  of  style,  and 
the  justness  of  his  characters  and  scenes.  There  is 
his  pathos,  too  —  ' 

"  Ah,  I  grant  you  the  pathos,"  said  Frankland, 
still  anxiously  regarding  Agnes  ;  "  there  is  one  of 
my  family  who  has  nearly  wept  herself  blind  over  'Pa 
mela,'  which  yet  she  will  never  have  done  reading." 

Agnes  neglecting  to  enter  the  discussion  by  the 
door  so  adroitly  held  open  for  her,  the  Commissary 
sententiously  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  And  nothing  could  more  strongly  attest  her  taste 
and  discrimination,  sir  !  " 

"  For  an  antidote,  I  have  read  her  '  Joseph  An 
drews,'  which,  you  know,  was  writ  as  a  satire  upon 
4  Pamela  ; '  but  all  to  no  purpose.  I  promise  myself 
now  to  win  her  over  with  l  Tom  Jones  ; '  for  if  that 
be,  as  'tis  said,  better  than  the  former  book,  'tis  not 
in  the  human  heart  to  resist  it." 

"  Who  is  Hume  ?  "  asked  some  one,  helping  him 
self  from  the  box. 

"  A  Scotsman  lately  come  into  notice  for  some 
bold  opinions,"  answered  Frankland,  returning  to 
his  task. 

'4'Tis  amazing  what  a  stir  one  may  create  by  the 
expression  of  a  little  doubt  and  blasphemy  !  "  sneered 
the  Commissary.  "  What  name  does  he  give  to  his 
rubbish?" 

" '  An  Inquiry  Concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals.'" 

Overing  hereupon  slyly  whispered  something  in 
Brinley's  ear,  at  which  they  both  laughed  without 
disguise. 


A   HUNTING-PARTY.  313 

"  Nay,  gentlemen ;  no  shots  in  the  back,"  said 
Frankland,  from  the  box.  "  'T  is  not  hard  to  see 
your  drift.  Here,  Auchmuty,  is  another  in  the  same 
vein  from  Voltaire,  —  the  book  he  writ  upon  us,  as 
you  know,  after  his  sojourn  in  England." 

"  '  Lettres  Philospphiques,'  "  said  Auchmuty,  scan 
ning  the  titlepage. 

"  Do  not  waste  your  time  on  that  scurvy  infidel," 
broke  in  the  Commissary,  hotly,  "  who  has  been  cast 
out  of  his  own  country  and  is  wandering  over  the 
face  of  the  earth  in  search  of  an  asylum  !  Even  the 
King  of  Prussia,  who  is  more  than  half  barbarian 
himself,  could  not  tolerate  the  dirty  little  toad  of  a 
Frenchman  !  " 

Winking  at  those  nearest  him  to  let  this  pass, 
Frankland  handed  over  the  book  without  further 
comment,  and  dived  again,  into  the  box. 

"  Aha,  gentlemen  !  the  greatest  treat  left  to  the 
last,  as  is  fitting !  Here,  in  a  package  by  them 
selves,  are  the  very  latest  books  of  the  day.  I 
charged  him  to  send  all  which  were  for  any  reason 
the  talk  of  the  town.  Here,  then,  is  what  they  are 
living  on  at  the  London  clubs  and  drawing-rooms ; 
help  yourselves,  then,  —  first  come,  first  served." 

There  was  a  general  scramble  upon  this  invitation, 
at  which  Frankland  stood  by  laughing. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  letter  from  Walpole, 
which  tells  the  verdict  of  the  wits  and  pundits  at 
home." 

" '  Amelia.' " 

"Harry  Fielding's  latest.  Ah,  lucky  dog  that  I 
am,  to  have  two  of  his  books  unread!  — a  feast  for 


314  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

the  gods !  Though,  't  is  said,  this  is  a  great  falling 
off  from  '  Tom  Jones.'  What  if  it  be  ?  Homer 
nods.  A  man  can't  be  always  at  his  best ;  and  at  his 
worst,  Fielding  must  needs  be  infinitely  diverting." 

"  Tell  me,  now,"  said  Lyde,  holding  up  a  book, 
"who  is  the  author  of  this,  that  he  dared  not  sign 
his  name,  —  '  The  Rambler '  ?  " 

"I  know  nothing  but  that  his  name  is  Johnson, — 
a  big,  clumsy  bumpkin,  one  of  the  Grub  Street  crew, 
who  lives  upon  his  wits." 

"  He  is  held  in  great  esteem  among  the  clergy," 
spoke  up  the  Commissary,  "  for  his  extraordinary 
learning  and  great  abilities." 

"  He  has  need  of  them,  to  follow  in  the  wake  of 
the  '  Spectator '  and  the  '  Idler '  with  his  trumpery 
'  Rambler,'  "  said  some  one,  upon  the  safe  general 
principle  of  crying  down  a  new  candidate  for  favor. 

" '  Peregrine  Pickle.'  What  have  you  to  say 
to  that,  in  the  list  of  your  judgments?"  asked 
Cradock. 

"  Why,  't  is  thought  to  carry  the  author's  repu 
tation  beyond  '  Roderick  Random  ; '  but  here,  gen 
tlemen,"  opening  a  book  in  his  own  hand,  "  is,  I  am 
assured,  the  prime  favorite  of  the  hour ;  the  book 
with  which  all  London  is  at  this  moment  ringing,  — 
'  Sir  Charles  Grandison.'  Here,  3~ou  champions  of 
Richardson ;  you  shall  fight  for  it  among  your 
selves  !  " 

So  many  new  books  procured  a  quiet  evening. 
With  literary  appetites  whetted  to  keenness  by 
wholesome  abstinence,  the  company  sat  down  and 
gloated  over  this  unexpected  feast. 


A   HUNTINGS-PARTY.  315 

Next  morning  dawned  clear  and  bright,  and  the 
party  broke  up,  the  gentlemen  taking  their  leave 
with  many  elaborately  turned  compliments  and  ex 
pressions  of  regret. 

Agnes  came  to  the  door  to  see  them  off.  The 
coach  drove  thundering  down  the  avenue  and  out 
upon  the  turnpike  amid  shouts  and  huzzas,  Frank- 
land  vigorously  waving  his  hat. 

"  See,  see  !     They  are  all  waving  to  you  !  " 

Agnes  courtesied  mechanically,  her  eyes  fixed  in 
another  direction. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  it  has  been  a  famous  rout,  and 
very  successful  in  the  main,"  sitting  down  at  her 
feet  in  the  doorway. 

She  nodded  assent. 

"  I  hope  you  are  now  cured  of  your  dread  of  a 
party." 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed." 

"  You  made  a  great  impression,  I  assure  you !  They 
were  one  and  all  loud  in  your  praises." 

"  I  could  well  have  spared  such  laudation." 

He  looked  up  searchingly  into  her  face.  "  Did  you 
not  find  them  agreeable  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  sincere  regard  for  the  rector  ;  he  has 
shown  himself  very  friendly.  For  the  rest,  they 
seemed  all  to  be  gentlemen  of  much  ingenuity  and 
information." 

"  And  very  polite  to  you." 

With  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  far-off  coach,  now 
looking  like  a  big  black  fly  as  it  crawled  up  a  dis 
tant  hill,  Agnes  did  not  answer. 

"  Eh,  my  dear  ?  " 


316  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  They  were  too  polite,  and  not  polite  enough." 

"  And  what  may  that  Delphic  utterance  signify, 
love?  I  do  not  understand." 

Turning  away  with  a  look  pitiably  dreary,  she 
answered,  — 

"  I  do  not  expect  you  ever  will." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

"THE   BROWN   CLAIM." 

HAVING  with  much  toil  and  trouble  set  up  his 
fold  in  the  wilderness,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Price  — 
commissary  now  no  longer  since  the  death  of  Bishop 
Gibson  —  bestirred  himself  with  equal  zeal  to  gather 
in  his  flock. 

To  this  end,  one  summer  evening,  he  drove  with 
his  wife  over  to  call  on  the  Franklarids,  —  so  the 
household  was  called  in  the  neighborhood.  The 
ladies  had  never  met ;  and  whether  good  Mrs.  Price 
accompanied  her  husband  on  this  Christian  and 
neighborly  errand  out  of  her  own  large  charity,  or 
by  his  procuring,  it  is  now  impossible  to  say. 

Agnes  and  Sir  Harry  were  sitting  upon  the  front 
porch,  and  saw  them  turn  in  at  the  gate. 

"  Who  be  these  coming  up  the  avenue  ?  " 

There  was  a  note  of  agitation  in  her  voice  which 
made  Frankland  turn  to  look. 

"  A  man  and  woman  in  a  chaise,  as  I  make  out," 
squinting  his  eyes. 

"'Tis  a  lady!" 

"  So  it  would  seem." 

"She  cannot  know  —  " 

"  Eh,  know  what  ?  Why,  't  is  the  Prices  coming 
to  wait  upon  us.  What  now,  you  're  surely  not 
going,  love  ?  " 


318  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  No,"  recovering  herself,  and  repressing  an  im 
pulse  to  escape. 

Frankland  hurried  to  welcome  his  guests  and 
usher  them  into  the  drawing-room.  Agnes  kept  her 
seat,  and  he  presently  came  out  with  the  announce 
ment  that  Mrs.  Price  demanded  to  see  her.  She 
went  in  intrenched  behind  her  neutral  manner.  The 
parson  straightway  laid  waste  her  defences  b}r  swift 
and  direct  assault. 

"I  want  you  and  my  wife  to  be  close  friends, 
madam;  so  pray  you  mg,ke  haste  and  further  your 
acquaintance.  Out  here  in  the  wilds  it  behooves  all 
Christians  to  be  hand  and  glove." 

Frankland  looked  on,  keenly  alive  to  the  points  of 
the  situation,  but  with  suspended  admiration,  as  if  in 
some  doubt  whether  the  parson's  effective  greeting 
were  due  to  tactics  or  to  natural  imperativeness. 

Mrs.  Price,  from  kindly  intuition,  let  us  hope,  lost 
no  time  in  following  her  husband's  lead,  who  there 
upon  seized  Frankland's  arm  and  took  him  aside, 
leaving  the  ladies  together. 

"  Indeed,  as  my  husband  says,  a  neighbor  counts 
for  much  in  the  country,"  began  the  visitor,  study 
ing  with  undisguised  curiosity  a  person  of  whom  she 
had  heard  much.  "  I  trust  I  shall  acquire  a  good 
character  for  neighborliness,  although  I  am  somewhat 
late  in  beginning." 

"  You  are  kind  to  say  it,"  said  Agnes,  gravely  and 
without  warmth. 

"  As  Mr.  Price  was  in  some  measure  instrumental 
in  bringing  you  hither,  it  is  the  more  incumbent  on 
us  to  do  what  we  may  to  make  it  agreeable." 


"THE  BROWN   CLAIM."  319 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  obligation  seems  rather  to  be 
upon  us." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  visitor,  as  it 
proved,  was  casting  about  for  a  new  topic. 

"  I  must  compliment  you,  madam,  upon  the  ex 
treme  order  in  which  you  left  everything  behind 
you  at  our  house." 

"  I  did  no  more,  surely,  than  was  fit  and  becoming. 
I  hope  you  expected  nothing  less." 

"  But  with  the  double  labor  of  getting  settled  here 
in  your  own  house  —  " 

"  This  ?  Oh,  I  assure  you  it  was  rather  diversion  ; 
our  thoughts  were  so  engaged  we  counted  the  work 
as  nothing." 

'•'  I  fear  —  that  is  —  you  —  I  would  say  —  " 

"  Pardon !  " 

"  'T  is  very  fine  weather  we  've  been  having." 

"  Yes,  barring  the  storm  of  the  past  week." 

"  To  be  sure  it  — I  had  forgotten  the  rain  —  You 
must  needs  find  it  very  tame  here  after  Boston?" 

The  good  lady  was  pulling  hard  in  the  conversa 
tional  harness. 

"  So  far,  not  at  all." 

"  But  do  you  not  greatly  miss  the  society  of  town  ?  " 

"  I  had  no  society  there,  madam." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  " 

Such  merciless  candor,  intolerant  of  any  gloze  or 
compromise,  was  most  hard  to  deal  with ;  the  good 
woman  struggled  on,  however. 

"  The  people  here,  I  am  sure,  you  must  have  found 
friendly  enough." 

"  I  could  not  wish  for  better  treatment." 


320  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  No,  no,  I  am  assured  of  it ;  the  danger  among 
so  few  is  of  too  frequent  visits." 

"  I  have  so  far  escaped  that  danger." 

"  "Pis  because  you  are  so  remote." 

"  Yes,  here  we  are  withdrawn  ;  but  at  your  house 
where  most  of  my  time  has  been  spent  —  " 

"  Ah !  there  you  found  the  visitations  frequent 
enough,  I  '11  be  bound." 

"  Not  altogether  burdensome  ;  to  be  frank  with 
you,  madam,"  —  discarding  suddenly  her  ironical 
tone,  — "  this  present  honor  I  am  receiving  at  your 
hands  is  my  first  experience  of  the  like  ceremony 
since  coming  to  the  country." 

"  Oh  !  ah  !  —  why  —  indeed,  I  am  amazed  —  Per 
haps  't  is  that  you  do  not  —  We  never  see  you  at 
church."  The  disconcerted  visitor  clutched  at  any 
available  straw. 

•  "  Yes,  yes  ;  how  is  that  ?  "  from  Mr.  Price  himself, 
returning  to  the  room.  His  wife  looked  up  quickly, 
but  had  the  address  to  repress  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  have  too  small  a  flock  here  not  to  miss  even  a 
single  ewe." 

"  'T  is  a  weary  way  to  go  to  hear  an  indifferent 
discourse,"  said  Frankland,  from  behind,  dexterously 
drawing  the  fire  upon  himself. 

"  That,  sir,  will  not  excuse  you ;  you  can  at  least 
take  part  in  the  service,  and  sleep  through  the  ser 
mon,  as  I  make  no  doubt  you  do.  But,"  turning  to 
Agnes,  "  how  is  it  we  do  not  see  you,  madam  ?  " 

Agnes  looked  the  questioner  very  calmly  in  the 
face,  and  replied  with  a  significancy  of  manner  which 
atoned  for  the  literal  prevarication :  — 


"THE  BROWN  CLAIM."  321 

"  I  have  thought  the  intrusion  of  strangers  among 
your  little  flock  might  not  be  altogether  welcome, 
sir." 

" '  Strangers ! '  poh  !  we  will  hear  no  more  of  that. 
'  Strangers ! '  we  '11  have  no  such  word  here.  You  shall 
meet ;  you  shall  know  each  other.  Come,  now,  we 
will  have  a  party !  I  will  have  you  all  at  my  house. 
What  say  you  to  Monday  night  ?  " 

Agnes  hesitated  and  looked  uneasy. 

"  *  Monday  night '  —  "  Frankland  began  evasively. 

"  Nay,  sir,  you  shall  gain  nothing  by  excuses," 
went  on  the  energetic  clergyman.  "  No  matter  for 
the  time,  one  is  as  good  as  another,  the  first  vacant 
night,  whenever  it  be  —  Let  us  say  Monday  week?" 

"  Since  there  is  no  escape,  we  will  come  with  great 
pleasure,"  said  Frankland,  laughing,  but  casting  a 
doubtful  glance  at  Agnes. 

Satisfied  with  this  assurance,  the  visitors  presently 
went  away. 

"  'T  was  very  well  meant  of  them,  —  this  civility," 
said  Franklaud,  in  a  sounding  manner. 

"  Yes." 

"  Mrs.  Price  is  a  fine  woman." 

"  She  is  most  kindly,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yet  you  treated  her  with  scant  courtesy,  my 
dear." 

"  My  act,  then,  ill  answered  to  my  intent,  which 
was  the  most  absolute  civility." 

"  But  quite  without  warmth." 

"  Because  I  am  persuaded  she  was  best  pleased  I 
should  keep  a  distance,  and  would  have  been  greatly 
disconcerted  at  my  approach." 

21 


322  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  'T  was  your  fancy." 

"No,  poor  woman!  'tis  plain  enough  she  was 
dragged  hither ;  but  I  give  her  great  credit,  none 
the  less." 

"  But  what  about  the  party  ?  " 

"  We  will  go." 

Frankland  naturally  looked  surprised  at  this  an 
swer,  so  prompt,  so  quiet,  and  so  utterly  unexpected. 

"  But  they  may  be  rude,"  he  suggested,  as  if 
sifting  for  reasons. 

"  And  if  they  be,  God  still  lives.  He  will  forgive 
them  so  slight  a  trespass." 

She  picked  up  a  newspaper  from  the  table  and 
looked  over  it  listlessly,  Frankland  pondering  her 
odd  answer.  Something  in  the  paper  presently  ar 
rested  her  attention,  and  she  asked  abruptly  in  quite 
another  voice,  — 

"  Do  you  take  count  of  all  the  vessels  that  sail 
from  Boston  ?  " 

"  In  numbers  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  do  you  see  them,  go  aboard  of  them, 
know  them,  as  it  were  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  child  ;  not  a  tithe." 

"  And  do  you  not  hear  their  names?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"  And  if  you  heard  a  name  a  good  many  times  you 
mayhap  would  remember  it." 

"  Ye-es," — yawning  —  "  the  old  stagers,  those  con 
stantly  plying  back  and  forth,  no  doubt  I  must." 

Casting  down  the  paper  and  idly  taking  a  flower 
from  a  little  jug  near  at  hand,  she  slowly  pulled  it  to 
pieces. 


"THE  BROWN  CLAIM."  323 

"Did  you  never  —  among  those  vessels  do  you 
remember  a  ship  called  — " 

"  Umph !  " 

'"The  Pathfinder'?" 

The  pause,  the  hesitation,  and  a  little  change  of  tone 
challenged  his  attention. 

"  No-o-o  ;  yet  stay,  it  seems  I  do  have  a  vague 
remembrance  of  such  a  name." 

"  But  know  not,  I  suppose,  since  your  memory  of 
the  ship  is  so  uncertain,  whether  she  still  trades  to  — 
Can  you  say  to  what  port  she  sails?" 

"  Easily  enough  by  my  books ;  by  my  memory  not 
at  all." 

Throwing  away  the  dismantled  flower-stalk,  she 
took  up  the  newspaper  again,  turning  it  over  and 
rustling  it  about  without  purpose. 

"  Would  it  come  to  your  knowledge  if  there  were 
any  change  —  that  is,  any  mishap  to  the  crew  ?" 

"  No." 

"  How  long  does  it  take  a  vessel  to  go  to  Portugal 
and  back?" 

"  'T  is  quite  impossible  to  say." 

She  looked  up  in  some  surprise. 

"  It  depends  on  too  many  conditions  ;  to  wit,  what 
luck  they  have  in  weather,  what  luck  again  in  getting 
rid  of  their  cargo  and  shipping  another.  Why  do 
you  ask?" 

"  Because  I  think  that  ship  went  to  Portugal." 

'"The  Pathfinder'?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  was  wondering  how  long  before  she 
would  come  back." 

"When  did  she  go?" 


324  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  'T  is  a  year  and  more  ago." 

"  She  may  have  come  and  gone  again  by  this." 

"I  would  like  much  to  know  when  she  is  next  in 
port." 

"  And  why  have  you  an  interest  so  particular  in 
that  ship?" 

"  I  knew  one  on  board,  of  whom  lately  I  chanced 
to  think  :  an  old  friend  and  playmate  he  was  from 
Marblehead." 

" '  Marblehead.'  Ah,  well  thought  on  ;  thanks  for 
the  reminder !  I  have  a  letter  for  you  ;  pardon  my 
neglect ;  the  Prices'  visit  put  it  out  of  my  mind." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  and  handed  her  the  fol 
lowing  letter  from  Goody  Surriage  :  — 

DERE  AG,  —  i  ha  been  low  in  Mind  since  seem'  ye.  God 
in  his  Goodnis  is  plesed  hevily  to  Visit  an'  afflick  me.  the 
Minister  ses  pray  for  to  be  resined  to  his  Will,  un  i  hop  so 
to  do;  but  'tis  hord,  Ag,  to  loose  yer  Forther  un  here  such  like 
Stories  o'  ye  un  from  yer  own  Lips  made  good ;  but  whatever 
cum,  yer  my  own  Child,  un  i  pray  for  ye  un  want  to  see  ye. 
0  Ag,  i  am  like  a  Pellicon  in  the  Wildernis  the  Minister 
reads  o'  out  o'  the  holy  Book,  left  alone  to  mone  un  grone. 
un  mor  things  i  ha  to  bare,  wat  am  i  to  do  for  my  Bread, 
not  to  menshun  the  Roomatics  has  laid  hoult  on  me  ?  't  is  a  sad 
Wurld,  un  wer  all  pore  Sinners,  God  help  us !  but  for  all  is 
said  un  for  all  is  done,  yer  my  own  Child,  Ag,  un'  dere  to  my 
Hart,  un  will  allers  be.  but  wat  i  ha'  to  say,  Ag,  ther's  one  here 
tells  me,  un  the  Minister  is  of  the  same  Mind,  ther's  some- 
thin'  in  the  Brown  Clame  Grondfother  bot  of  the  Savages,  as 
ye  know ;  un  pore  as  i  am  ther  may  be  a  Forchun  for  me, 
for  as  Goody  Lippett  ses,  an'  she  is  writin'  this  for  me,  ther's 
the  Lond,  un  ther  it  must  stay,  un'  the  biggest  Villun  of  em 
all,  Savage  or  White,  could  not  take  it  away ;  un  its  down  in 


«  THE  BROWN  CLAIM."  325 

the  Papers  black  un  white  a  Part  belongs  to  me,  but  i  cant 
eat  it,  nor  drink  dry  earth,  nor  ware  it  on  my  Back  ;  un  so 
wat  am  i  better  off,  tell  me  thet.  remember  me  to  all  in 
quirers,  from  yer  suffrin'  un  Hart-broken  Mother, 

MARY  SURRIGE. 

"I  must  go  thither  at  once,"  said  Agnes,  starting 
up. 

"  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  My  mother  is  sick;  she  is  poor  and  forlorn.  'Tis 
a  shame  to  me  to  neglect  her!  Read  for  yourself!" 
tossing  down  the  letter. 

"  And  why  did  you  not  tell  me  your  mother  was 
in  such  straits?" 

"  To  what  end  ?  " 

"  That  I  might  help  her." 

"  She  wants  none  of  your  help  ;  she  shall  never 
have  help  from  you  !  "  with  a  sudden  flash  of  indig 
nation. 

He  reflected  a  moment,  as  if  to  explain  to  himself 
this  outburst,  and  answered  very  quietly,  with  an 
evident  understanding  of  her  mood :  — 

"  I  would  not  be  officious,  my  dear,  in  thrusting 
myself  into  the  matter ;  but  let  us  talk  about  it  a 
little  !  There  may  be  ways  in  which  I  can  be  of 
service  to  your  mother  without  putting  upon  her 
an  obligation." 

"She  would  not  choose  to  be  beholden  to  anybody." 

"  And  she  need  not,  perhaps.  Let  me  ask :  she 
speaks  in  this  letter  of  the  '  Brown  Claim,'  —  what  is 
that  ?  " 

"'Tis  of  some  lands  down  in  Pemaquid,  —  a  vast 
tract,  't  is  said,  which  my  grandfather  was  one  among 


326  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

others  to  buy  of  the  Indians  ;  I  put  no  faith  in  it.  I 
have  heard  it  prated  of  all  my  life,  and  yet  it  has 
come  to  nothing." 

"  She  speaks  of  papers,  here." 

"  Oh,  't  is  all  in  the  papers,  they  say,  fair  and  clear. 
I  had  no  skill  to  read  them  in  those  days  ;  others 
have  told  me.  And  yet  if  it  be,  't  is  like  treasure 
sunk  in  the  sea,  never  to  be  come  at  ;  only  my 
poor  mother  will  be  forever  dreaming  of  a  fortune 
in  it." 

"  If  she  has  papers,  they  may  show  a  legal  title." 

"  So  she  has,  I  am  sure.  And  yet  after  all  't  is 
but  to  a  bone  of  contention;  for  the  heirs  of  the 
others  who  bought  with  my  grandfather  have  been  for 
years,  'tis  said,  wrangling  over  it,  which  my  poor 
mother  only  escaped  by  having  no  means  to  engage 
in  it." 

Making  no  immediate  reply  to  this,  Frankland 
picked  up  the  dame's  letter  again,  and  pondered  it. 

"Do  you  purpose  going  thither  to-morrow?"  he 
asked  at  length. 

"  Yes,  God  willing." 

"  Say  to  your  mother,  then,  that  if  she  will  intrust 
me  with  those  papers  I  will  have  the  matter  inquired 
into." 

"  'T  is  like  you  "  —  bursting  out  impulsively  —  "  to 
be  ever  most  kind  when  I  have  forgotten  good  man 
ners  and  decency.'' 

"  Poh,  silly  girl !  Stay ! "  as  she  was  hurrying  from 
the  room.  "  I  will  go  with  you  to  town ;  let  us  take 
an  early  start,  so  that  the  horses  may  have  a  com 
fortable  rest  and  bait." 


"  THE  BROWN   CLAIM."  327 

"  But  I  '11  take  no  horses  farther  than  Boston." 

"  How  then  ?  " 

"  Pray  you  devise  some  other  way  for  rne  !  I  would 
not  again  make  a  show  of  myself  in  the  coach." 

"  Nothing  easier ;  I  will  send  you  down  in  the 
Government  boat,  only  you  must  make  no  long  stop, 
lest  I  have  official  need  of  the  vessel." 

"  Be  assured  I  will  make  all  haste." 

On  her  previous  transit  through  Boston,  Agnes 
had  been  too  much  agitated  to  take  note  of  anything. 
Now  she  gazed  about  with  lively  interest  upon  the 
many  changes  and  improvements  wrought  in  the 
single  year  of  her  absence.  Coming  to  the  Common, 
a  strange  spectacle  awaited  them  :  rows  of  young 
women  with  their  spinning-wheels  seated  along  the 
mall  were  busy  at  work  in  the  open  air,  while 
elderly  men  and  matrons  went  up  and  down  the  line 
to  give  them  countenance  and  keep  at  a  distance  the 
good-natured  and  gaping  crowd. 

"  What  is  this  ?  " 

Frankland  laughed  at  Agnes's  look  of  astonishment. 

"  You  have  not  read  your  newspaper,  my  dear ; 
this  is  the  latest  lunacy  out  of  Bedlam  ;  't  is  '  the 
spinning  craze.' ': 

"  And  why  have  they  come  forth  so  publicly,  —  is 
it  a  penance  ?  " 

"  Never  a  bit !  else  they  had  never  come.  'Tis  the 
fashion,  my  dear  ;  't  is  to  encourage  industry  and 
thrift;  these  are  daughters  of  our  most  substantial 
citizens,  come  forth  here  to  give  an  example  to  the 
meaner  sort." 

"  But  what  a  trial  to  demand  of  them  I" 


328  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Yet  't  is  said  they  undergo  it  with  surprising 
cheerfulness.  One  might  almost  suspect  the  pretty 
minxes  of  enjoying  it.  Note  the  frills  on  their 
aprons,  and  the  daintiness  of  their  tuckers,  and  their 
profound  ignorance  of  the  swains  staring  close  at 
hand.  But  come,  I  must  take  you  away,  lest  you 
join  the  ranks  to-morrow." 

Agnes  arrived  at  Marblehead  early  in  the  after 
noon.  Intent  upon  her  errand,  she  took  the  nearest 
way  from  the  wharf  to  her  mother's  cabin.  Coming, 
at  a  street-crossing,  upon  a  group  of  boys  engaged 
in  pitching  pennies,  she  quietly  skirted  the  crowd, 
and  was  about  to  pass  on,  scarce  heeding  their  pres 
ence.  Unhappily  she  was  recognized  by  one  of  the 
number  who  had  seen  her  at  the  funeral. 

"Ther'  go  old  Surrige's  gal!"  he  shouted,  pointing 
after  her.  "  She  thet  run  away  wi'  th'  lor-rd.  She  's 
a  wicked  one ;  she  be  in  wi'  the  Devil,  they  say.  See 
her !  ther'  she  goes.  Th'  lor-rd  ha'  sent  her  home 
a-foot.  Wher'  be  her  gr-rond  coach  gone  ?  Th' 
lor-rd  ha'  tur-rned  her  off,  'n'  sent  her  home  a-foot." 

Only  too  easily  aroused  to  mischief,  the  whole  troop 
came  shouting  and  hallooing  after  her. 

"  Look  out,  ther',  she  lays  not  her  claw  on  ye  ! 
She 's  a  witch,  they  say." 

"  A  witch !  a  witch !  "  cried  the  others,  catching 
up  the  opprobrious  name. 

Failing  to  draw  any  retort  from  the  object  of  their 
persecution,  the  malicious  little  wretches  took  cour 
age  to  press  upon  and  hustle  her  as  she  walked. 

Hitherto  affecting  unconcern,  Agnes  was  now  filled 
with  alarm,  and  looked  about  for  aid.  Full  well 


"THE  BROWN  CLAIM."  329 

she  knew  the  uselessness  of  appeal  to  her  tormentors, 
whom  once  she  would  have  boldly  turned  upon  and 
with  the  first  roadside  weapon  put  to  flight. 

"  Get  back  to  town  wi'  ye  !  Go  back,  ye  witch ! 
We  '11  ha'  no  evil  ones  her' !  Fling  her  over-r  th' 
r-rocks  !  Drive  her  into  th'  sea !  Yah  !  yah  !  Go 
way,  witch  !  Witch  !  witch  !  witch  !  " 

Detecting  the  panic  of  their  victim,  one  of  the 
ringleaders  flung  an  old  shell  he  had  picked  out  of 
the  mire.  The  foul  mark  this  left  on  Agnes's  beau 
tiful  dress  filled  the  whole  group  with  delight.  The 
next  minute  a  shower  of  missiles  —  stones,  shells,  dead 
fishes,  and  any  convenient  offal  from  the  gutter  — 
rained  down  upon  Agnes's  head. 

Terrified  now  beyond  control,  she  took  to  flight. 
This  was  the  last  needed  incentive  to  the  young 
ruffians  at  her  heels.  With  yells  of  triumph,  they 
pursued  like  a  pack  of  bloodhounds.  Luckily,  Agnes 
was  now  close  upon  the  cove.  Winged  with  fear, 
she  succeeded  in  reaching  her  mother's  door.  Goody 
Surriage  came  out  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  up 
roar  just  as  the  troop  caught  up  with  her  gasping 
daughter.  Swifter  than  thought  the  maternal  in 
stinct  flamed  up  ;  and  forgetful  of  age  and  rheuma 
tism  she  rushed  to  the  rescue. 

Seizing  the  ringleader,  who,  little  suspecting  the 
unwasted  vigor  of  the  old  fishwife's  arm,  had  not 
heeded  her  approach,  she  belabored  him  with  a 
broken  oar  until  he  roared  for  mercy.  Then,  turn 
ing  upon  the  others  with  an  energy  of  vituperation 
which  drowned  their  puerile  clamor,  she  routed  and 
drove  them  from  the  cove. 


330  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Agnes  spent  several  hours  with  her  mother,  and 
came  away  at  length  with  various  projects  for  the 
dame's  relief  in  her  mind,  and  the  "  Brown  Claim  " 
in  her  pocket. 

Arrived  in  town,  she  handed  the  latter  to  Frank- 
land,  and  heard  nothing  of  it  for  several  days.  Sit 
ting  at  her  chamber-window  one  afternoon,  she  saw 
his  coach  coming  from  town  much  earlier  than  usual. 
She  hurried  down  just  as  the  horses  came  up  at  a 
dead  run. 

*'  Something  has  happened  !  " 

Frankland  sprang  out  and  greeted  her  with  affected 
composure,  and  indeed  regarded  her  with  a  facetious 
look  as  he  nodded  in  answer  to  her  question. 

"'Tis  ill  news?" 

"  Not  entirely,"  looking  mysterious. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  "  impatiently. 

"  You  are  going  to  England." 

"I?" 

"  Yes,  and  take  me  with  you." 

Agnes  turned  white,  and  looked  at  him  with  star 
tled  eyes. 

"  'T  is  some  one  of  yours  !  " 

"  No,  no  ;  put  away  your  fears  ;  't  is  nothing.  I 
am  called  to  London  on  business.  My  late  uncle,  it 
is  discovered,  was  fond  of  making  wills.  He  has 
left  an  assortment  behind  him.  He  had  lately  mar 
ried  a  new  wife, — an  imperious  dame,  —  who  took 
advantage  of  his  dotage  to  procure  a  will  in  her 
favor,  in  which  all  the  family  estates  which  have 
been  accumulated  since  the  days  of  the  great  Pro 
tector  have  been  made  over  to  this  grim  Worcester- 


"THE  BROWN  CLAIM."  331 

shire  spinster, —  as  late  she  was.  I  am  called  home 
to  try  the  matter  in  the  courts." 

"  And  when  are  we  to  go?  " 

"  Directly  ;  a  ship  sails  in  two  days. " 

"  Then  we  need  not  go  to  the  Commissary's  party, 
after  all,"  with  a  look  of  immense  relief. 

Bursting  out  laughing  at  such  an  unexpected 
cause  for  congratulation,  Frankland  said, — 

"  Then  you  are  glad  to  go  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  —  "  with  a  look  of  dismay,  "  my 
mother  !  I  cannot  leave  her." 

"  She  is  provided  for." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  "  with  a  kindling  look  and 
rising  color. 

"  I  have  bought  the  '  Brown  Claim.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

LONDON  TOWN. 

A  RRIVED  in  London,  after  a  long  and  stormy 
.-ex  voyage,  Frankland  went  with  Agnes  to  his 
own  house  in  Clarges  Street,  off  Piccadilly,  which 
chanced  to  be  vacant. 

On  the  way  Agnes  gazed  about  with  interest  arid 
wonder  at  the  street  sights,  —  the  tall  buildings, 
the  strange  vehicles,  the  gorgeous  signs  with  their 
grotesque  emblems,  — puzzling  her  wits  as  to  why  the 
"  Fox  "  should  ever  have  been  married  to  the  "  Seven 
Stars,"  the  "Bell"  to  the  "Neat's  Tongue,"  the 
"Dog"  to  the  "Gridiron,"  or  the  "Hog"  should 
have  been  put  "in  Armor." 

Some  of  these  oddities,  Frankland  explained,  were 
due  to  perversion,  which  in  the  course  of  two  or 
three  generations  had  altered  beyond  recognition 
designs  once  significant  and  appropriate,  as  in  the 
case  of  "  The  Satyr  and  the  Bacchanals,"  changed 
by  slow  and  insensible  degrees  into  "  The  Devil  and 
the  Bag  of  Nails."  Even  he,  however,  failed  to 
detect  in  "  The  Goat  and  Compasses  "  the  sweet  old 
Puritan  assurance  that  "  God  Encompasseth  Us." 

But  more  strange  and  bewildering  than  these, 
indeed  in  some  cases  past  all  comprehension  to 
Agnes,  were  the  street  cries  which  resounded  on 


LONDON  TOWN,  333 

every  side  and  filled  the  air  with  infernal  clamor: 
"  Small  coal  I  "  "  Crab  !  crab  !  any  crab  ?  "  "  Troope 
every  one  I  "  "  Buy  my  singing-glasses  !  "  "  Old  sat- 
ten,  old  taffety  arid  velvet !  "  "  Buy  a  fork  or  a  fire- 
shovel  !  "  "  Marking-stones !  "  "  Hot  baked  wardens, 
hot!"  "Cockles!"  "Buy  a  fine  bow-pot!"  "A  dip 
and  a  wallop  for  a  bawbee  !  "  "  Curds  and  whey !  " 
"  A  tormentor  for  your  fleas,  ma'am ! "  "  Buy  my 
wash  balls  !  "  "  Fine  tie,  or  a  fine  bob,  sir  !  "  "  Hearts, 
liver,  and  lights  !  "  "  Saloop !  "  "  Delicate  cowcumbers 
to  pickle ! " 

"  Three-rows-a-penny  pins! 

Shorts,  whites,  and  mid-dl-ings !  " 

For  the  rest,  Agnes  was  surprised  to  find  the 
streets  not  much  wider  than  at  home,  and  far 
more  dirty.  Foul  water  stood  in  the  kennels,  giving 
forth  most  unsavory  odors,  while  the  unpaved  thor 
oughfares  abounded  in  puddles  through  which  saucy 
coachmen  delighted  to  drive  their  ponderous  wheels, 
splashing  from  head  to  foot  any  daintily  dressed 
passer-by.  Frankland  accounted  for  the  great  num 
ber  of  bootblacks  and  street-sweepers  by  reluctantly 
confessing  that  in  fair  weather  the  air  was  filled  with 
clouds  of  dust,  and  in  wet  weather  the  crossings  were 
almost  impassable  for  mud. 

"  And  are  these  the  streets  the  stately  Mr.  Addi- 
son  used  to  traverse  and  talk  so  much  about  in  the 
'Spectator  '  ?  "  Agnes  cried  out  in  astonishment. 

"  The  very  self-same  ;  and  much  delight  he  found 
here,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  But 't  is  more  like  Mr.  Gay's  *  Trivia.'  " 


334  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Frankland  answered  only  by  a  confident  smile,  as  if 
privy  to  a  latent  charm  lurking  behind  the  dirt  and 
confusion  which  could  be  trusted  to  reveal  itself  in 
time. 

Arrived  at  home,  and  the  dust  of  travel  shaken 
off,  Frankland,  with  the  instinct  of  a  man  of  the 
world,  made  his  first  care  a  personal  one  in  the  mat 
ter  of  certain  little  points  of  conformity  to  their 
changed  surroundings.  Agnes  must  have  a  new 
hoop,  less  flaring  in  front  and  more  at  the  sides  ;  she 
must  doff  her  old  capuchin  in  favor  of  a  new  straw 
bonnet  tied  behind  in  her  poll,  with  streamers  down 
her  back  ;  she  must  have  new  gowns  of  lustring  and 
taffeta  for  home  wear,  and  satin  and  brocade  for 
grander  occasions  ;  while  he,  pending  the  making  of 
certain  fine  suits  at  the  tailor's,  bought  a  new  brown 
bob  periwig,  and  exchanged  his  old-fashioned  triangu 
lar  cocked-hat  for  a  Kevenhiiller  with  a  spout  in  front. 

Thus  equipped  he  showed  himself  at  White's  and 
Brookes's,  but  found,  to  his  surprise  and  disgust,  in 
stead  of  a  throng  of  old  friends  and  acquaintances, 
both  places  overrun  with  a  herd  of  striplings,  —  mere 
saucy  boys,  as  it  seemed,  fitter  to  be  flogged  and  sent 
back  to  school.  His  own  set  had  so  nearly  dis 
appeared  that  he  had  much  ado  to  find  one  or  two 
among  the  crowd,  and  they  indeed  took  but  a  lan 
guid  interest  in  renewing  an  old  acquaintance.  The 
youths,  meanwhile,  how  the}r  chattered  and  bet  and 
swore  !  what  new  tricks  of  dress  they  had,  and  what 
new  quirks  of  speech !  How  easy  the  dogs  were  ; 
withal,  how  occupied  with  themselves,  and  how  little 
concerned  with  him  I 


LONDON  TOWN.  335 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  about.  Every 
where  change,  and  all  for  the  worse.  Where  was  the 
dear,  the  grand  old  England  of  his  youth,  when  Wai- 
pole  was  at  the  head  of  a  cabinet  of  noble  nobodies, 
when  Pulteney  and  Carteret  and  Harley  and  Sandys 
and  the  obese  and  venal  Bubb  Doddington  were  in 
opposition  ?  Where  was  the  royal  head  of  that  op 
position  ?  Where  was  the  Augustan  age  of  English 
letters, — the  London  of  Pope  and  Swift,  of  Boling- 
broke  and  Chesterfield,  of  Gay  and  Lady  Mary,  and  a 
host  of  lesser  lights  ?  Where  was  the  drama  of  those 
halcyon  days?  What  could  be  left  to  a  stage  which 
had  lost  Gibber,  Quin,  Anne  Oldfield,  and  Mrs.  Porter? 
Who  was  this  ranting  little  revolutionist  of  a  Scotch 
man  at  Drury  Lane,  whom  the  striplings  were  raving 
about,  who  had  set  at  nought  all  tradition  and  pro 
priety,  —  he  and  his  Irish  hoyden,  Mrs.  Woffington  ? 

Although  still  only  thirty-seven,  Frankland  con 
fessed  to  Agnes  on  coming  home  that  he  felt  like 
Methuselah,  and  almost  persuaded  himself  into  con 
formable  gout  and  rheumatism.  Despite,  too,  the 
unimpaired  elegance  of  figure  which  there  is  good 
authority  for  believing  he  retained  to  the  end  of  life, 
he  felt,  he  said,  as  clumsy  as  a  clodhopper.  A  cen 
tury  later,  perhaps,  he  would  have  summed  the  whole 
case  up  in  one  word,  and  recognized  with  dismay  that 
he  had  lost  every  vestige  of  his  old-time  chic. 

Two  prime  consolations,  however,  among  many 
others,  were  left  him.  In  the  first  place,  his  old 
patron  and  friend,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  was  at  the 
head  of  a  government  recently  patched  together  out 
of  the  available  remnants  of  "the  broad-bottomed 


336  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

coalition."  In  the  next  place,  it  turned  out  that 
another  of  his  old  friends  had  risen  to  the  scarcely 
less  distinguished  position  of  autocrat  in  the  club- 
world.  He  discovered  it  quite  by  accident  one  day 
at  White's,  when  there  took  place  a  most  unaccount 
able  buzzing  and  fluttering  among  the  striplings 
upon  the  entrance  of  a  tallish,  thin  man  with  a 
ghastly  white  face. 

"  The  great  Mr.  Selwyn  !  "  went  the  whisper. 

And  so,  sure  enough,  it  was  his  own  old  acquaint 
ance,  George  Selwyn,  —  fresh  arrived,  no  doubt,  from 
an  execution  or  a  charnel-house,  —  now  grown  to  be 
the  great  wit  of  his  day,  the  very  prince  of  fine  jesters, 
whom  the  striplings  stood  in  such  awe  of  that  they 
were  content  with  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  his  table. 
When,  therefore,  Fraukland  went  and  claimed  ac 
quaintance,  and  was  cordially  greeted,  he  became 
from  that  moment  a  man  of  mark.  It  was  learned 
presently  that  he  was  a  baronet,  with  a  fortune  in 
possession  and  another  in  expectancy  ;  that  he  had  a 
snug  berth  in  the  Civil  Service ;  arid  that,  moreover, 
he  enjoyed  the  rare  distinction  of  being  descended 
from  the  Great  Protector. 

Frankland  told  Agnes  of  the  meeting,  and  added 
in  confidence,  that,  although  gratified  to  find  one  of 
his  contemporaries  grown  to  so  much  consequence, 
yet  to  his  own  thinking  Selwyn's  great  reputation 
was  due  rather  to  a  grim  undertaker's  manner  of 
saying  things,  and  a  trick  with  the  whites  of  his  eyes, 
than  to  supremacy  of  cleverness. 

From  Selwyn  he  had  news  of  many  of  his  old 
friends,  and  was  glad  to  hear  some  excuse  for  Horace 


LONDON  TOWN.  337 

Walpole's  neglect,  for  he  had  begun  to  feel  sore  at 
receiving  no  welcoming  visit  or  word  from  that  old 
crony.  But  Horry,  it  seems,  could  hardly  call  his 
soul  his  own,  what  with  the  horde  of  guests  yonder 
in  his  little  box  at  Strawberry  Hill,  which  he  had 
converted  into  such  a  marvel  of  taste  and  elegance, 
according  to  Selwyn,  as  had  made  it  the  show-place 
of  all  England. 

In  all  this  time,  let  it  be  understood,  Frankland 
was  not  neglecting  his  more  serious  interests.  On 
the  contrary,  he  had  made  it  his  first  business  to  con 
sult  with  his  legal  advisers  and  institute  proceedings 
for  the  recovery  of  his  inheritance.  The  belligerent 
dowager  being  moreover  already  on  the  spot  eager 
to  defend  her  rights,  —  or,  more  properly,  conquests, 
—  the  fight  promised  to  be  close  and  bitter. 

Pending  the  necessary  time  spent  in  preliminaries, 
Frankland  took  Agnes  about  to  see  the  town.  They 
went  for  a  row  upon  the, river,  where  they  met  much 
other  gay  company,  and,  to  Agnes's  indignation,  were 
assailed  with  broad  jokes,  equivocal  compliments,  and 
coarsest  raillery  from  passing  boats ;  which  not  even 
the  assurance  that  it  was  nothing  more  than  the 
usual  river  license  fully  reconciled  them  to.  Again, 
they  went  one  evening  to  Drury  Lane  to  see  the  new 
great  actor  in  the  new  great  tragedy  of  " Barbarossa." 
Agnes  sat  in  one  of  the  boxes,  with  crowds  of  dandies 
standing  all  about  her  upon  the  stage,  obstructing  the 
entrances,  taking  snuff,  and  showing  off  their  'finery. 
Suddenly  out  of  their  midst  stalked,  as  it  seemed 
straight  towards  her,  a  little  figure  covered  with  glit 
tering  tinsel,  his  big,  blazing  eyes  fixed  steadfastly 

22 


338  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

upon  her.  Throwing  herself  backward,  she  well- 
nigh  shrieked  with  terror,  and  Frankland  himself 
was  so  startled  out  of  his  prejudices  as  to  mutter 
under  breath,  "  Egad  !  't  is  wonderful !  "  But  the 
greatest  sight  was  in  reserve,  —  a  masquerade  at 
Ranelagh,  which  was  as  much  a  novelty  to  Frank- 
land  as  to  Agnes ;  for  the  place  had  been  built  during 
his  .absence  in  America.  The  garden  opened  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  but  having  been  warned 
that  people  of  fashion  did  not  arrive  until  later,  they 
went  at  six,  and  found  themselves  in  a  vast  enclosure 
with  a  rotunda  in  the  midst,  surrounded  by  an  arcade 
containing  booths  for  tea,  for  bric-a-brac,  and  others 
still  for  gaming-tables.  Beyond  was  a  mimic  lake, 
upon  which  floated  an  island  holding  a  pagoda,  while 
here,  there,  and  everywhere  were  malls  shaded  by 
beautiful  trees.  Upon  the  greensward  were  pitched 
numerous  tents,  and  in  one  part  a  May-pole  was  set 
up,  about  which  people  were  dancing  to  a  pipe  and 
tabor.  Bands  of  music  in  all  sorts  of  disguises  were 
placed  about,  one  being  concealed  in  a  gondola  covered 
with  streamers,  which  rowed  back  and  forth  on  the 
lake.  As  night  fell,  the  trees  were  hung  with  lamps, 
and  the  brilliantly  illuminated  rotunda  resounded 
with  music  and  the  shuffling  tread  of  dancing. 

As  no  persuasion  had  availed  to  induce  Agnes  to 
put  on  a  mask,  which  she  stubbornly  associated  with 
some  indefinable  wickedness,  they  found  themselves 
unpleasantly  conspicuous,  and,  indeed,  a  butt  for  so 
many  not  very  delicate  jokes  that  they  came  away 
before  midnight,  although  the  revels,  as  they  after 
wards  learned,  were  kept  up  until  morning. 


LONDON  TOWN.  339 

Arrived  home,  they  found  that  Mr.  Walpole  had 
been  to  visit  them,  and  left  behind  him  a  note,  in 
which,  after  neatly  lamenting  their  absence,  he  went 
on  to  beg  his  dear  Harry  and  Madam,  his  soon-  (he 
hoped)  to-be  friend,  to  waive  further  ceremony,  and 
come  to  dine  with  him  upon  the  morrow,  where  they 
would  find  for  company  the  great  Cu  and  two  fair 
ladies  of  the  neighborhood. 

Upon  some  hint  of  declining  from  Agnes,  Frank- 
land  showed  so  much  disappointment  that  she  for 
bore  to  press  the  matter,  and  it  was  decided  they 
should  go. 

As  Twickenham  lay  within  easy  reach  of  the  city, 
they  set  out  at  their  leisure  next  morning  in  a  coach 
and  four,  and  the  roads  being  in  good  condition, 
reached  the  house  before  noon. 

They  were  surprised  to  find,  instead  of  a  modern 
villa,  as  they  had  expected,  something  more  resem 
bling  a  little  gingerbread  castle,  with  suggestions 
of  Gothic  architecture  in  its  toyish  prettiness,  yet 
on  the  whole  vastly  finical  and  without  symmetry  or 
consistency.  Outside  there  was  a  lawn,  with  a  grove 
and  gardens,  all  variously  embellished  so  that  there 
remained  only  the  sky  and  the  expanded  view 
which  the  busy  owner  had  not  perverted  from  its 
simplicity. 

Mr.  Walpole  happened  to  be  walking  in  the  gar 
den  when  they  arrived,  and  came  promptly  to  re 
ceive  them,  —  a  little  man  in  a  curling  wig,  with  an 
oval  forehead,  a  long  nondescript  nose,  a  flat  upper 
lip,  and  a  lurking  look  of  mockery  in  his  bright  wide- 
apart  eyes.  He  and  Frankland  regarded  each  other 


340  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

with  closest  interest  as  they  rapidly  exchanged  the 
commonplaces  of  greeting. 

"  But  come,  come,  you  shall  go  in,"  said  their 
host,  at  last  turning  about  and  leading  the  way 
through  a  bow-window  into  a  tiny  parlor  hung  with 
a  stone-colored  Gothic  paper,  and  some  Venetian 
prints  framed  in  a  very  ugly  way,  so  that  they  had 
the  effect  of  bas-reliefs. 

Pointing  out  the  Gothic  effect  of  the  walls,  the 
little  enthusiast  drew  them  beneath  some  gloomy 
arches  into  the  hall,  and  paused  with  the  unconscious 
air  of  a  showman  to  give  time  for  any  irrepressible 
bursts  of  rapture. 

All  was  silence,  however ;  for  what  they  saw  was 
so  different  from  anything  in  their  experience,  that 
his  visitors  seemed  unable  to  make  up  their  minds 
on  the  moment. 

"  You  may  see  how  little  I  have  to  boast  of,  for 
this  is  the  most  particular  and  chief  beauty  of  my 
castle,"  —  with  his  ear  cocked  for  a  disclaimer. 

"  Ah  !  how  extremely  —  humph  !  yes,  't  is  very 
fine  !  "  said  Frankland,  in  doubtful  tones. 

"  Oh  !  nothing  at  all  to  talk  of,"  with  overdone 
depreciation  and  a  little  shrug. 

"  And  yet  all  the  world  is  talking  of  it.  I  've 
heard  of  nothing  else  since  I  arrived." 

"  Yes,  the  clublings  make  a  great  chatter,"  twink 
ling  away  a  look  of  satisfaction  behind  his  eyelids ; 
"  and  I  will  whisper  you  the  cause  of  it,  which  is 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  that  public  taste  in  this 
blessed  realm  is  sunk  to  such  a  barbarous  level  — 
note,  madam,  pray,  the  wall  painted  in  perspective 


LONDON  TOWN.  341 

to  represent  Gothic  fretwork  —  that  any  suggestion 
of  real  elegance  comes  as  a  revelation  from  heaven. 
Remark  this  balustrade,  Sir  Harry  !  how  light  it  is ! 
adorned  with  the  antelopes,  as  you  see,  all  quite  in 
the  Gothic  manner." 

"  If  there  were  but  a  thought  more  light,"  sug 
gested  his  visitor. 

"  No,  no !  "  with  a  shudder  ;  "  not  another  glimmer, 
for  worlds.  The  obfuscation  is  studied ;  see !  the 
windows  are  gloomed  with  those  painted  fat  saints  to 
shoulder  out  the  garishness.  There  's  nothing  of  the 
sort  in  England.  Madam,  you  '11  scarce  credit  it ;  I 
have  in  all  thirty-two  windows  of  painted  glass  in  my 
little  box." 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  " 

"  Here,  as  you  see,  the  vestibule  opens  with  three 
arches  upon  the  landing." 

"  And  these  niches  ?  " 

"  Are  filled  with  trophies,  coats-of-mail,  Indian 
shields,  broadswords,  quivers,  long-bows,  and  spears, 
all  said  to  have  been  taken  by  Sir  Terr}7  Robsart  —  you 
know  our  descent,  Sir  Harry  —  in  the  holy  wars —  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  somebody  at  his  elbow  cry 
ing  in  a  loud  but  not  unmusical  voice,  — 

"  Lord,  sir !  and  are  these  your  manners,  —  to  leave 
company  to  shift  for  themselves  while  you  are  ex 
plaining  your  outlandish  curiosities?" 

Walpole  turned  with  a  flush  of  pleasure  to  intro 
duce  the  speaker, — a  stout,  middle-aged  woman,  with 
bold  eyes  and  coarse  features  redeemed  by  a  look  of 
shrewdness  and  good-nature,  as  Mrs.  dive." 

"  Leave    us   now  to   become   acquainted,  sir,  and 


342  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

make  haste  to  meet  her  ladyship,  who  I  saw  coming 
through  the  shrubbery." 

Upon  this  hint  the  host  hurried  away,  when  the 
actress,  turning  to  Agnes,  said  bluntly,  — 

"  'T  is  well  I  arrived  in  time,  madam  ;  else,  had  he 
once  got  you  upstairs,  you  might  never  have  come 
off  alive.  'Tis  endless,  —  the  trash  he  has  stored 
there ;  but  come  with  me  out  of  this  dark  hole,  and 
I  will  show  you  something  more  worth  while." 

Leading  the  way  back  to  the  little  parlor,  she 
seated  them  in  the  bow-window  and  pointed  out  the 
view,  with  Twickenham  on  the  one  hand,  Richmond 
on  the  other,  the  river  winding  below,  and  fine  green 
meadows  between. 

As  they  sat  thus,  Walpole  came  back  leading  a 
tall,  rather  faded-looking  woman,  with  soft  features, 
a  long  neck,  and  quiet  manners,  whom  he  introduced 
as  Lady  Suffolk. 

Agnes  stared  in  astonishment  to  see  both  ladies 
without  tuckers,  and  so  very  naked  as  to  suggest 
that  they  had  been  interrupted  in  their  toilet  and 
come  away  half  dressed. 

Mr.  Chute  presently  appeared,  —  a  high-bred,  dull- 
looking  man,  with  a  lean  face  and  an  aquiline  nose ; 
and  dinner  was  announced. 

Franldand,  having  attempted  on  the  way  out  sev 
eral  fine  speeches  in  Lady  Suffolk's  ear,  discovered 
after  a  little  that  her  lad}^ship  was  deaf,  a  fact  made 
more  evident  in  the  course  of  the  meal  \;y  a  little 
side  conversation  between  her  and  Mrs.  Olive. 

"  What  a  beauty,  madam  !     'Tis  her  own  tint,  too." 

"  Poh  I     Never  tell  me  that." 


LONDON  TOWN.  343 

"  I  swear  to  you  !  " 

Lady  Suffolk  put  up  her  glass  and  stared  at  Agnes, 
whose  eyes  were  riveted  upon  her  plate  with  a  futile 
attempt  at  unconsciousness,  the  mounting  color  tell 
ing  its  own  story  upon  cheek  and  forehead. 

The  dinner  was  enlivened  by  stories  of  Court  life 
by  Lady  Suffolk,  and  racy  stage  anecdotes  from  Mrs. 
Clive,  the  host  himself  contributing  a  due  share. 

Among  other  sallies,  he  rallied  Frankland  on  his 
lawsuit. 

"  How  is  your  aunt,  Sir  Harry  ?  Have  you  en 
countered  the  old  dame  yet?  Egad!  you'll  find  her. 
a  foe  worthy  your  steel." 

"  You  know  her  ladyship,  then  ?  " 

"  God  forbid  !  Not  I.  I  'm  told  old  Marlborough 
was  a  lamb  to  her.  A  regular  Xantippe,  the  terror 
of  her  own  family,  and  now  come  to  be  the  scourge 
of  yours.  You  've  heard  her  pet  name  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why,  by  those  who  have  to  do  with  her  she  is 
familiarly  called  '  the  Devil.'  " 

"Behind  her  back?" 

"  I  warrant  you." 

"  You  fill  me  with  terror,"  said  Frankland, 
laughing. 

"  And  well  I  may,"  answered  Walpole,  delighted 
at  having  unearthed  so  promising  a  bit  of  gossip. 
"  I  tell  you  frankly  I  would  n't  give  a  fico  for  all  you 
ever  recover  from  her." 

"  I  have  hopes  a  jury  of  Englishmen  will  never  see 
a  family  inheritance  alienated  from  its  proper  course." 

"  Oh,  for  the  landed  estates,  you  may  have  them 


344  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

back  after  she  's  dead  ;  but  for  the  personal  heredita 
ments, —  all  the  plate,  portraits,  jewels,  and  memo 
rials  of  the  Great  Protector, —  I  promise  you  she  will 
burn  them  to  ashes  before  one  ever  comes  back  to 
you,  though  Newgate  stared  her  in  the  face." 

"  And  she  's  welcome,  for  all  me.  I  fancy,  all  told, 
there  's  nothing  of  much  worth." 

"  Hear  the  man,  Chute  !  Hear  him,  ladies  !  Why, 
sir,  the  old  hag  has  in  her  clutches  the  Frankland 
Cooper ! " 

"And  what,  pray,  is  that?" 

"Eh?"  cried  the  amazed  virtuoso,  breathlessly. 

"Good  God,  sir!  you  have  lost  credit  forever  in 
this  house  !  "  said  Lady  Suffolk,  tranquilly. 

Agnes,  not  yet  quite  accustomed  to  elegant  society, 
started  at  the  oath. 

"  But  to  come  back  to  the  point,"  said  Frankland. 

"And  are  you  serious?  you  cannot  be  such  a 
d d  ignoramus !  " 

"  I  assure  you." 

"Tell  him,  your  ladyship,  while  I  get  back  my 
breath  ! " 

"  Why,  sir,  't  is  a  miniature  portrait  of  Cromwell, 
done  by  the  famous  Cooper.  The  story  goes  that 
the  Protector  came  one  day  unexpectedly  into  the 
artist's  cabinet,  while  he  was  engaged  upon  the  por 
trait,  and  caught  him  making  a  copy  ;  whereupon 
he  snatched  the  original  and  carried  it  off  in  high 
dudgeon." 

"And  this  is  now  in  the  possession  of  my  aunt?" 

"  Ay,  is  it,"  broke  in  Walpole,  "  after  having  come 
down  to  you  from  old  Oliver  himself  I  'T  is  a  very 


LONDON   TOWN.  345 

gem,  too,  and  well  known  to  collectors;  indeed,  in 
corroboration  of  Lady  Suffolk's  story,  you  may  see 
the  armor  in  the  picture  is  unfinished.  The  old 
griffin  sets  great  store  by  it,  I  assure  you ;  't  is 
guarded  more  jealously  than  the  crown  jewels. 
Chute  shall  relate  the  circumstance  of  seeing  it  once 
in  company  with  Bentley.  Come,  Cu  ! " 

"  Why,"  began  Chute,  in  a  dry  and  formal  tone 
very  different  from  his  friend's,  "  having  gone  in  full 
dress,  as  we  had  a  hint  we  must,  to  her  ladyship's 
town  residence,  Hollis  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  we 
were  received  with  much  ceremony  and  ushered  up 
to  her  bedroom,  where  she  sat  propped  up  in  great 
grandeur,  being  ill  at  the  time,  in  a  yellow  satin 
nightgown,  and  blazing  with  all  the  family  jewels. 
The  family  coach,  with  attendants  in  livery,  was 
thereupon  despatched  to  the  bankers,  where  the  min 
iature  was  deposited  for  safe  keeping,  and  it  was 
brought  in  great  state  and  exposed  to  our  homage. 
Then,  after  we  had  satisfied  our  curiosity  and  ex 
hausted  our  raptures,  it  was  conveyed  back  again 
with  the  like  ceremony." 

After  dinner  the  guests  were  taken  to  the  garden 
to  see  the  sights,  —  the  rare  plants,  the  fountain,  the 
Chinese  summer-house,  and  the  antique  shrine  sent 
from  Italy  by  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

"Yonder,"  said  Walpole,  pointing  to  a  roof  just 
peeping  from  behind  the  grove,  "  is  Cliveden  ! " 

"  My  own  bit  of  a  box,"  explained  Mrs.  Clive,  with 
a  soubrette  dip  ;  "  and  here,  see,  is  the  path  leading 
to  it  with  a  name  of  its  own,  like  a  street  in  town ; 
and  what,  think  you,  but  Drury  Lane  ?  " 


346  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

The  coach  was  presently  announced,  and  Agnes 
went  to  put  on  her  bonnet. 

"  Egad !  Sir  Harry,"  cried  Walpole,  looking  after 
her  in  admiration,  "  my  heart  is  quite  gone  to  this 
radiant  creature  of  yours,  —  she  is  a  very  paragon. 
Introduce  her  at  Court,  and  she  would  be  the  toast 
of  the  town  in  a  fortnight." 

"  Or  upon  the  boards  either,"  piped  up  Mrs.  Clive. 
"  What  would  not  little  Davy  give  for  such  a  face 
and  figure  !  " 

"  But  you  will  never  persuade  me,"  added 
her  ladyship,  "  that  a  creature  with  such  elegance 
and  propriety  of  deportment  was  bred  up  in  the 
wilderness." 

The  chorus  was  interrupted  by  Agnes's  reappear 
ance  upon  the  steps,  when  Walpole  hastened  forward 
to  hand  her  into  the  coach. 

Frankland  set  out  for  home  evidently  delighted 
with  his  visit.  "You  see  now,  my  dear,  the  effect 
of  getting  out  of  that  hot-bed  of  bigotry  we  have 
been  living  in,  and  into  the  company  of  men  and 
women  of  the  world." 

Agnes  did  not  speak,  but  seemed  to  ponder  the 
remark. 

"  You  have  to-day  been  received,  and  with  the 
greatest  honor  and  respect,  in  one  of  the  first  house 
holds  in  the  kingdom." 

"  And  those  ladies  —  " 

Agnes  stopped.  Frankland  gazed  at  her  search- 
ingly.  "  Why  did  you  stop  ?  What  did  you  mean 
by  that  look?" 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  know." 


LONDON   TOWN.  347 

"  Poll  !     You  are  dissembling." 

"  You  know  I  cannot  dissemble.  I  tell  you  the 
simple  truth  ;  't  is  beyond  my  power  to  unravel  the 
strange  medley  of  thoughts  and  emotions  I  have  had 
to-day." 

"  But  you  surely  know  your  feelings  upon  your 
reception." 

"  I  have  but  one  feeling  or  wish  in  the  matter." 

"  And  that  ?  " 

"  That  you  should  be  satisfied." 

"  'T  is  idle  to  talk  so  ;  you  must  experience  dif 
ferent  emotions  from  respectful  and  contemptuous 
treatment." 

"  I  do  not  know ;  I  am  tired  thinking  upon  it. 
I  am  not  sure  I  should  not  prefer  merited  contumely 
to  undeserved  respect.  But  't  is  out  of  my  power 
to  control.  I  must  accept  what  comes ;  it  makes 
little  difference  now,  it  can  make  none  in  the  end." 

She  spoke  quietly  and  without  bitterness,  in  a 
voice  strong  with  the  calmness  of  resignation. 

Frankland  felt  himself  disarmed  by  it. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  with  softened  manner, 
"  you  will  have  no  more  ill-treatment  to  endure.  I 
can  answer  for  my  friends  ;  I  can  answer  for  the 
people  here.  We  shall  live  henceforward  in  another 
world,  —  a  world,  as  you  will  find,  big  enough  for  all 
to  breathe  in  after  their  own  manner." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"  FACE   TO  FACE." 

THE  suit  of  Frankland  vs.  FranTdand  duly  came 
on  for  trial  before  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
and  a  brief  account  of  the  proceedings  was  published 
in  the  forthcoming  "  Gentleman's  Magazine."  From 
this  abridged  report  it  appears  that  Sir  Harry  pre 
vailed  in  the  matter  so  far  as  to  have  the  will  set 
aside  and  a  reversion  of  the  property  adjudged  to 
him  upon  the  death  of  the  dowager,  who  was,  more 
over,  condemned  to  pay  all  the  costs  of  court. 

Life  in  London,  meanwhile,  was  fast  spoiling  Frank- 
land  for  a  return  to  America.  The  disaffection  had, 
indeed,  set  in  from  the  moment  he  came  within 
sound  of  Bow  Bells,  and  continued  every  moment  to 
increase.  Soon  after  his  coming,  therefore,  he  had 
let  it  be  known  to  friends  influential  with  the  Gov 
ernment  that  he  should  not  be  averse  to  a  change  ; 
and  now  that  his  business  was  done,  and  a  prospect 
of  return  stared  him  in  the  face,  he  took  the  bolder 
step  of  making  a  formal  application  to  be  transferred 
to  some  corresponding  position  upon  the  Continent. 

While  awaiting  official  action  upon  this  petition, 
he  one  day  received  a  letter  from  his  mother,  saying 
that  with  his  two  unmarried  sisters  she  was  on  the 
point  of  setting  out  from  Mattersea,  the  family  seat 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  349 

in  Nottinghamshire,  to  corne  to  her  house  in  town, 
where  they  were  all  looking  forward  with  the  great 
est  eagerness  to  a  reunion  with  him  ;  that  meantime, 
however,  they  must  stop  on  the  way  at  Denbigh, 
where  some  pressing  family  affairs  would  detain  them 
for  several  weeks. 

He  brought  this  home  and  read  it  to  Agnes. 

"  They  are  coming  here  !  "  she  repeated,  blankly. 

"  '  Here  '  !     Oh,  no  ;  to  their  own  house." 

Notwithstanding  this  assurance,  she  mused  over 
the  intelligence  with  a  troubled  face. 

He  did  not  heed  her  ;  he  was  thinking.  All  at 
once  he  started  up  with  a  shout:  — 

"  Why  should  n't  we  ?  We  will.  Egad,  we  will ! 
My  dear,  I  have  a  notion." 

Agnes  shook  off  her  abstraction  to  listen. 

"  Capital !  Yes,  yes  !  Nothing  could  be  easier. 
We  will  do  it,  I  say.  We  will  go  to  Mattersea ! " 

He  stopped,  and  laughed  aloud  at  her  look  of 
dismay. 

"  They'll  be  gone,  you  understand, — all  gone  ;  the 
coast  will  be  clear  —  only  one  or  two  old  servants  to 
whom  any  explanation  will  do  —  " 

Agnes  checked  his  enthusiasm  by  shaking  her  head 
emphatically. 

"Eh?     What  now?" 

"  And  do  you  think  I  would  do  that  ?" 

"  Do  what,  pray  ?  " 

«*  Go  to  their  house  by  stealth,  and  in  their 
absence  ?  " 

'"Their  house!'— what  the  deuce,  my  dear!  — 
4  Their  house  ' !  'T  is  my  house  !  my  own  —  't  is  an 


350  AGNES  SUREIAGE. 

entail.  I  am  the  head  of  the  family  ;  my  mother  occu 
pies  the  house  in  my  absence  by  my  sufferance." 

Agnes  still  shook  her  head.  "  Go  you,"  she  said, 
"  and  leave  me  behind  !  " 

His  face  fell.  He  was  silent  for  a  space,  and  said 
at  length  in  a  tone  of  controlled  irritation  :  — 

"Stay,  then,  if  you  will!" 

"  You  are  angry  with  me,  Frankland." 

"  I  had  hoped  }rou  were  cured  of  these  foolish 
qualms,  since  getting  out  of  yonder  mole's  nest  of 
bigotry." 

"  I  cannot  help  my  feelings  ;  I  can  only  pray  for 
strength  to  control  them,"  she  answered  patiently  ; 
"but  in  this  matter  I  am  not  alone  concerned." 

He  sat  nursing  his  chagrin,  and  did  not  speak. 

"  My  going  thither  will  be  a  needless  affront  to 
your  family." 

"  It  need  never  be  discovered." 

"  But  will  none  the  less  be  an  underhanded  and 
unworthy  action  in  me." 

"  How  then  !  Have  I  not  a  right  to  go  to  my  own 
house  when  't  is  empty,  and  take  whom  I  choose  — 
But  say  no  more  !  I  Avill  press  you  no  further." 

"  You  need  not,"  she  answered  resignedly,  "  since 
lam  resolved  to  go.  I  only  thought — 'tis  excusa 
ble,  I  hope,  to  beg  you  will  show  some  small  considera 
tion  for  the  feelings  of  others,  even  if — " 

She  needed  not  to  finish  the  sentence.  Her  mean 
ing  was  only  too  clear.  He  sprang  to  detain  her  as 
she  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Agnes,  hearken  a  moment !  It  has  been  one  of 
my  most  cherished  wishes  in  bringing  you  hither  to 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  351 

take  you  to  the  home  of  my  boyhood,  to  show  you 
the  scenes  of  our  early  sports,  to  go  with  you  to  all 
the  places  I  have  talked  so  much  about,  and  live  it 
over  with  you  upon  the  spot.  I  have  said  nothing  of 
it  before,  but  I  have  had  it  steadily  in  view  from  the 
beginning.  I  have  constantly  thought  and  dreamt  of 
it,  awaiting  with  impatience  an  opportunity  to  carry  it 
into  effect.  Behold  here  the  opportunity  ready  made 
to  our  hands  !  My  business  here  is  done  ;  my  family 
will  not  arrive  for  several  weeks.  I  can  make  no  plan 
as  to  my  future  movements  until  I  have  an  answer 
from  the  Government.  I  have  nothing  to  do  mean 
time  but  stand  idly  here  sucking  my  thumbs.  Sud 
denly  comes  the  news  that  the  house  is  vacant —  My 
dear,  do  you  see  what  a  grievous  disappointment  —  " 

"  I  will  go,  I  say." 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  the  discussion  ended 
in  a  conventional  way. 

The  preparation  for  so  long  a  journey  was  no  light 
matter,  but,  set  about  with  vigor,  was  soon  concluded. 
The  heavy,  lumbering  travelling-coach  having  been 
thoroughly  overhauled  and  put  in  repair,  was  loaded 
down  with  piles  of  superfluous  luggage  without  and 
innumerable  needed  and  needless  comforts  within. 
At  last,  with  the  coachman  armed  to  the  teeth  upon 
the  box,  the  footman  and  valet  quaking  upon  the 
rumble,  the  maid  and  bandboxes  crowded  in  with 
themselves,  they  set  forth,  attended  for  the  first  half- 
score  miles  by  a  mounted  escort  as  a  guard  against 
the  highwaymen  who  infested  every  turnpike  leading 
from  the  city. 


352  AGNES  SURPJAGE. 

To  Agnes,  whose  journeys  at  home  had  been  for 
the  most  part  through  the  wilderness,  this  spectacle 
of  a  whole  countryside  under  cultivation  was  a  reve 
lation.  She  beheld  with  speechless  delight,  framed 
in  the  coach-window,  picture  after  picture  of  waving 
wheat-fields,  flourishing  orchards,  blooming  hedge 
rows,  quaint  villages,  noble  parks,  stately  cathedrals, 
turreted  castles.  All  bespoke  a  land  inhabited  for 
centuries,  an  atmosphere  breathing  of  antiquity  and 
historic  prestige,  of  wealth  and  power,  national  glory 
and  private  renown.  It  produced,  too,  another  im 
pression  :  an  uncomfortable  and  belittling  one,  of  per 
sonal  insignificance,  — a  feeling,  as  she  described  it  to 
Frankland,  as  if  she  herself  had  been  born  but  3~es- 
terday,  a  child  of  nowhere  and  nothingness,  and  had 
no  place  amid  such  surroundings. 

Frankland,  on  the  contrary,  reviving  every  moment 
fresh  reminiscences  of  childhood,  felt  more  and  more 
akin  with  his  environment.  Intent  upon  making 
Agnes  share  his  enthusiasm,  he  pointed  out,  with  brief 
scraps  of  history  or  tradition,  the  more  picturesque 
and  noted  landmarks.  Now  it  was  the  distant  peaks 
of  Chilton  Hills,  now  the  tranquil  Ouse  zigzagging 
its  slow  way  across  the  fertile  plains  of  Bedfordshire, 
again  the  dark  mass  of  Rockingham  Forest  looming 
far  to  the  left  over  the  gentle  downs  of  Northamp 
ton,  or,  more  imposing  than  all,  the  ancient  pile  of 
Peterborough  Cathedral  uprising  in  their  very  path. 

Here,  as  it  chanced,  they  stopped  for  the  night, 
and  Agnes  spent  all  her  waking  hours  at  the  Cathe 
dral,  gazing  awe-struck  upon  the  grand  fa£ade  with 
its  forest  of  turrets,  spires,  and  pinnacles,  or  wander- 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  853 

ing  with  bated  breath  amid  the  solemn  glories  of  the 
interior. 

Continuing  their  way  early  next  day,  they  crossed 
the  little  river  Welland,  and  rolled  on  over  the 
Kesteven  moors,  watching  the  morning  mists  uprise 
like  ghosts  from  the  far-off  Lincoln  fens. 

Arrived  in  Nottinghamshire,  familiar  objects  greeted 
Frankland's  eager  eye  on  every  hand,  and  Agnes  noted 
with  surprise  his  steadily  increasing  agitation  as  they 
advanced  amid  scenes  of  which  she  had  so  often  heard 
him  speak  with  indifference. 

At  Newark,  while  their  horses  were  baiting,  they 
walked  down  upon  the  great  bridge  which  spans  the 
Trent. 

*'  Here,  my  dear,  is  one  of  the  three  great  rivers  of 
England  !  " 

"  '  Great ! ' "  repeated  Agnes,  depreciatingly  ;  "  't  is 
not,  however,  so  big  as  our  own  Charles,"  she  con 
cluded,  with  a  calculating  eye. 

"  Poh,  poh,  little  patriot !  The  Boston  river  is  all 
mouth,  like  a  good  many  of  the  noisy  praying  hypo 
crites  on  its  banks;  this  river  is  more  considerable 
and  far  deeper." 

Passing  through  Carl  ton,  Tuxford,  East  and  West 
Retford,  they  approached,  with  nightfall,  the  little 
hamlet  of  Mattersea,  in  the  Hatfield  division  of  the 
wapentake  of  Bassetlaw,  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Idle. 

"  See !  —  do  you  see,  my  dear,"  cried  Frankland, 
scarcely  able  to  keep  his  seat,  "  that  dark  line  yonder 
on  the  western  horizon  ?  That  is  the  famous  Forest 
of  Sherwood.  Ah,  now  we  are  getting  nearer ;  here 

23 


354  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

is  Hayton  Castle,  not  a  stone  changed  ;  farther  on 
is  Blackaw  Hill ;  we  '11  climb  it  together,  you  and  I. 
This  stretch  nearer  at  hand  is  Barnby  Moor,  and  yon 
der  is  Torvvorth  Grange.  But,  stay ;  there  is  some 
thing  more  curious :  do  you  see  a  great  ridge  in  the 
distance  overgrown  with  ivy  and  a  tangle  of  shrub 
bery?  That  is  the  remains  of  a  Roman  road  one 
thousand  —  fifteen  hundred,  nearly  two  thousand 
years  old.  Heigh-ho  !  it  seems  but  yesterday  I  saw  it 
last.  Ah,  here  we  are  at  Stone  Hill;  and  look!  look! 
yonder  is  the  village  !  A  few  minutes  more  and  }TOU 
may  see  the  oaks  and  sycamores  in  our  own  park." 

Filled  with  the  home-returning  feeling,  Frankland 
gazed  about  him  in  a  transport,  without  a  thought  of 
Agnes's  state  of  mind.  His  attention  was  presently 
drawn  to  her  in  an  unexpected  manner. 

"  Here  is  an  inn ! "  she  cried,  suddenly  clutching 
his-  arm. 

"  Yes,  the  village  inn,"  he  said  carelessly. 

"  Let  us  stop  !  " 

"'Stop'!"  He  turned,  and  discovered  with 
amazement  her  panic-stricken  face. 

"  I  want  to  get  out.  I  want  to  stop  here.  I  can 
not  go  on  with  you  !  " 

Puzzled  at  so  sudden  a  consternation,  Frankland 
hesitated. 

"  Put  me  down,  I  pray  you.  You  need  not  stop  a 
minute  ;  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  Go,  and  do  not 
hasten  your  visit !  Stay  yonder  as  long  as  you  like. 
I  shall  be  content,  I  shall  be  patient,  I  will  wait  for 
you  here." 

"  Why  !    why  !    why  !     What    sudden   whimsy   is 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  355 

this?"  said  Frankland,  laughing  aloud,  but  with  a 
forced  effect. 

"  Stop  the  coach,  I  beg !  " 

"  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  Don't  be  a  goose, 
love  !  We  have  settled  it  all  once  that  you  're  to  go. 
You  will  have  me  at  your  side;  what  do  you  fear?  " 

"  Do  riot  ask  me  !     Do  not  argue  about  it !  " 

"  But  I  will  argue  upon  it.  You  shall  not  be  so  silly. 
What  should  you  fear  ?  Is  it  not  my  own  house, 
when  all  is  said  and  done  ?  Come,  come,  my  dear,*' 
embracing  her;  "have  done  now  with  such  childish 
ness,  and  trust  to  me  !  " 

His  words  and  manner  had  a  due  effect.  Agnes 
made  no  further  remonstrance,  but  sat  for  some  min 
utes  in  silence,  evidently  fighting  a  little  battle  with 
herself.  That  she  came  off  with  no  very  signal  vic 
tory  was  shown  by  the  uncertain  tone  in  which  she 
vetoed  Frankland's  suggestion  to  stop  if  she  were 
still  unwilling  to  go  on. 

Meantime  the  coach  had  been  making  progress  and 
was  now  rolling  up  the  avenue.  Agnes  was  too  much 
agitated  to  note  details.  She  was  only  conscious  of 
stopping  before  an  open  door,  of  seeing  Frankland 
alighted  and  shaking  hands  with  a  gray-haired  old 
butler,  of  seeing  the  servants  flying  to  and  fro  with 
the  luggage,  of  finding  herself  mounting  the  stone 
steps  into  a  spacious  hall  and  following  on  into  a  re 
ception-room  where,  to  her  bewilderment,  she  beheld 
Frankland  in  the  embrace  of  a  venerable  matron  who 
sobbed  with  joy  as  she  clasped  him  to  her  bosom,  and 
of  two  young  women,  both  of  whom  gave  evidence  of 
the  liveliest  emotion. 


356  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Dazed  and  neglected,  she  stood  in  the  midst  of  the 
confusion,  servants  running  to  and  fro,  doors  slam 
ming,  dogs  barking,  and  these  strange  people  laughing 
and  weeping  over  Frankland. 

As  soon  as  they  released  him  he  turned  to  look 
for  her.  She  stood  waiting  near  the  door.  He  made 
a  shambling,  confused  movement  to  go  to  her,  but 
checked  himself.  He  turned  the  other  way  and 
then  back  again  ;  he  glared  at  the  floor  while  big 
drops  of  sweat  stood  upon  his  forehead.  Over 
whelmed  with  the  situation,  he  had  lost  all  con 
trol  of  himself.  There  was  a  terrible  silence  in 
the  room. 

Agnes  lived  long  years  in  the  pause,  —  years 
freighted  with  moral  experience. 

Frankland  rose  slowly  to  the  occasion.  The  man 
was  shaken  to  his  centre.  Summoning  all  his  re 
sources  of  courage  and  firmness,  it  was  at  last  with 
unsettled  voice  and  composure  that  he  spoke. 

"  Mamma,  my  friend  Miss  Surriage.  Agnes,  my 
sisters,  Miss  Frances,  Miss  Mary." 

A  breeze  straight  from  an  iceberg  came  sweeping 
through  the  summer  air.  Mrs.  Frankland,  as  if  every 
drop  of  blood  had  congealed  in  her  veins,  courtesied 
from  a  freezing  distance.  She  did  not  move  from 
her  place,  but  folding  her  withered  hands  above  her 
girdle,  fixed  her  dimmed  eyes  upon  the  stranger 
with  annihilating  disfavor.  Her  two  daughters  upon 
either  hand  dropped  their  eyes  to  the  floor  and  stood 
motionless. 

There  was  a  distressing  pause;  Frankland's  face 
flushed. 


"FACE  TO  FACE:'  357 

"Madam,"  he  cried  in  an  appealing  tone,  "is  this 
your  reception  of  my  dearest  friend  ?  " 

"  We  had  no  warning  that  we  were  to  be  honored 
by  —  by  such  a  guest,"  faltered  the  matron,  huskily. 

But  the  son  did  not  hear;  his  eyes  were  turned 
anxiously  upon  Agnes,  who  with  a  white  face  and 
eyes  staring  upon  vacancy  began  to  sway  with  a  reel 
ing  motion. 

"Madam,  sisters,  'tis  inhuman!  See,  she  is  in  a 
faint !  " 

The  two  young  ladies  started  impulsively  forward, 
but  the  mother  put  out  her  trembling  hands  with  a 
restraining  gesture :  — 

"  Jenkins  —  the  housekeeper,  the  servants  ;  the 
bell  is  at  your  hand,  Charles  ! " 

Seizing  Agnes  about  the  waist,  Frankland  pulled 
the  bell  violently ;  but  directly  Agnes,  as  if  by  sheer 
force  of  will,  recovered  energy  to  disengage  herself 
from  his  grasp,  and  said  faintly  :  — 

"  I  will  go  away." 

"No,  you  shall  not.  Madam,  I  say  —  ladies,  for 
shame !  You  shall  not  be  thrust  forth.  I  myself 
will  bid  you  welcome  to  the  shelter  of  my  own  roof. 
Be  calm,  my  dear ;  have  no  fear!  I  will  see  that  you 
have  honorable  treatment." 

At  this  moment  a  servant  entered  in  answer  to  the 
bell. 

"  Go  bid  the  housekeeper  make  ready  the  best 
chamber  in  the  house  for  this  lady's  use,  and  have 
her  luggage  taken  up  without  delay  !  " 

"  Since  you  have  assumed  control  of  the  house 
hold,  my  son,  your  sisters  and  I  will  withdraw,"  said 


358  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

his  mother,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  pride  and 
resentment. 

"  We  will  relieve  you  of  the  necessity,"  retorted 
Frankland  sharply,  and  followed  Agnes  into  the  hall. 

There  she  sank  upon  a  bench  against  the  wall,  and 
he  strode  hotly  up  and  down.  Presently,  as  he  ap 
proached,  she  made  a  movement  to  speak. 

"  No,  no  ;  I  know  what  you  would  say.  Nothing 
can  excuse  such  an  affront.  A  reception  like  this 
after  all  these  years  !  An  indignity,  an  outrage,  put 
upon  me  in  my  own  house  !  " 

Seeing  the  uselessness  of  remonstrance,  Agnes 
waited  for  his  anger  to  cool.  Suddenly  he  came  and 
knelt  by  her  side  :  — 

"Pardon, —  pardon  me,  dear,  for  this  needless  trial 
I  have  brought  upon  you.  You  were  in  the  right  to 
stay  away." 

"  But  now  we  are  both  in  the  wrong." 

"  How  in  the  wrong  ?  "  flaming  up  again. 

"  By  staying  here  a  moment  longer.  Let  me  go, 
then,  I  beg,  before  any  greater  harm  is  done  !  " 

"  No,  by  God  !  that  you  shall  not !  "  he  cried  vio 
lently.  "  If  you  quit  this  house,  I  go  with  you,  and 
never  to  return  !  " 

She  had  never  seen  him  so  aroused,  and  was  very 
much  shocked,  but  none  the  less  intent  upon  being 
heard. 

"  Listen  to  me  but  a  moment,  Frankland,"  she 
began,  with  a  calmness  proportioned  to  his  excite 
ment.  "  I  beg  you  but  to  look  at. the  other  side  of 
this  matter.  Think  of  the  case  of  these  ladies." 

He  repressed  a  movement  of  impatience. 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  359 

"  'T  is  plain  ill  accounts  of  me  have  reached  them  — 
no  doubt  made  worse  to  their  ears.  There  was  no 
need  ;  the  truth  was  enough  to  justify  their  conduct." 

"  This  is  the  old  strain ;  I  will  hear  no  more  of  it ! " 
he  interrupted  angrily. 

"  Their  conduct,  I  say,  is  justified,"  she  went 
on  firmly.  "  I  do  not  accept  their  treatment  as  an 
affront." 

"  But  it  is  an  affront,  however  you  accept  it.  You 
are  growing  of  late  into  a  habit  of  submitting  too 
tamely  to  such  indignities." 

A  sudden  light  came  and  went  in  her  face  like 
the  flash  of  a  candle  behind  a  darkened  window. 
Frankland  noted  the  effect,  and  looked  profoundly 
rebuked. 

Perceiving  this,  perhaps,  she  went  on  in  a  gentler 
tone :  — 

"  Why  should  I  be  the  cause  of  embroiling  you 
with  your  family?  Let  me  go  away,  then,  quietly 
and  at  once." 

"  Go,  then ;  go  now  !  go  at  once  ! "  he  cried  pas 
sionately  ;  "  but  it  shall  be  in  my  company  !  "  And 
springing  to  his  feet,  he  hurried  away  as  if  to  carry 
his  sudden  purpose  into  effect. 

Repressing  a  vague  movement  to  follow  him,  Agnes 
sat  reviewing  the  situation  with  a  look  of  utter  doubt 
and  distress.  What  was  left  her  to  do?  The  re 
sponsibility  for  any  happy  and  peaceable  issue  of  the 
matter  seemed  to  rest  with  her.  She  showed  no 
attempt  to  shirk  it,  bat  spent,  however,  some  minutes 
of  anxious  thought  in  making  up  her  mind.  Pres 
ently,  clearing  her  face  of  trouble,  she  turned  with 


360  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

a  firm  step  to  the  reception-room.  Mrs.  Frankland 
was  seated  in  a  chair  by  the  table  with  her  daugh 
ters  upon  either  hand,  engaged  in  an  excited  parley. 
She  half  rose  from  her  seat,  and  flushed  with  anger 
at  sight  of  Agnes  entering  the  room  alone  and 
unbidden. 

The  latter,  however,  was  not  driven  from  her  pur 
pose  b}'  this  unpromising  reception. 

"  Madam,"  she  began  very  quietly,  "  I  wish  to 
crave  your  pardon  for  this  unwarranted  intrusion 
into  your  household.  I  grieve  for  the  pain  it  has 
cost  37ou,  and  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  I  am  not  here 
of  my  own  will." 

The  matron  turned  away  her  face,  pale  and  rigid 
as  a  mask  in  its  pride  and  aversion,  and  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  the  opposite  wall.  The  two  young  women, 
however,  gazed  with  an  irresistible  fascination  upon 
the  stranger,  who  calml}'  arid  with  an  air  curiously 
mingled  of  dignity  and  humilit}'  went  on  :  — 

"For  your  want  of  charity  to  me,  'tis  a  matter 
between  God  and  your  own  heart.  I  owe  you  no 
grudge  for  it.  I  make  no  claim  to  any  consideration 
at  your  hands.  I  come  to  you  now,  that  you  may  be 
spared  further  pain.  I  would  have  left  your  house  at 
once.  Your  son  would  not  suffer  I  should  go  alone; 
he  will  go  with  me,  and  threatens  in  such  case  never 
to  return." 

The  mother  started  from  her  pose  of  inflexibility 
and  regarded  Agnes  with  a  look  of  consternation. 

"  Oh,  madam,  I  should  be  forever  wretched  to 
know  myself  the  cause  of  such  a  breach  between  you. 
Indeed,  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  it.  If,  then,  it 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  361 

proves  there  is  no  resource  but  that  I  should  stay,  I 
wish  only  to  explain  'tis  under  compulsion,  and  to 
assure  you  't  will  be  for  the  briefest  possible  space ; 
and  that  in  the  mean  time  I  neither  expect  nor  will 
consent  to  receive  any  attention  at  your  hands." 

Before  the  astonished  matron  could  gather  herself 
for  a  reply,  Agnes  had  returned  to  the  hall.  There 
she  met  Frankland,  hat  in  hand,  giving  directions 
to  his  valet.  He  stared  to  see  her  come  from  the 
reception-room. 

"'Tis  all  settled!"  she  said,  going  quickly  forward. 

"Eh?" 

"  I  have  been  speaking  with  Mrs.  Frankland.  It 
is  understood  between  us  that  I  am  to  remain.  Ask 
me  nothing  further.  Go  in  now  and  see  her.  I 
make  only  one  request,  —  that  my  name  shall  not  be 
mentioned  between  you." 

She  turned  and  went  upstairs  in  the  direction  she 
had  seen  the  servant  disappear  with  her  luggage. 
Frankland,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  went  in  to 
see  his  mother  and  sisters. 

They  had  a  long  interview.  He  did  not  tell  Agnes 
the  result,  but  only  explained  that  the  unexpected 
presence  of  his  family  in  the  house  was  due  to  an 
accident  which  had  delayed  their  departure.  He 
added  that  some  business  between  him  and  his 
mother  would  keep  him  over  the  following  day. 

Meantime,  despite  all  remonstrances  on  her  part, 
he  ate  his  meals  and  spent  most,  of  his  time  with 
Agnes.  Next  morning,  after  another  long  interview 
with  his  family,  he  came  back  to  her  again,  and  with 
much  ado  coaxed  her  out  for  an  airing.  When  near 


362  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

the  park  gate  they  were  met  by  a  coach  drawn  by 
six  horses  just  turning  into  the  avenue. 

There  was  a  cry  of  joy  from  the  coach-window, 
and  Frankland  ran  forward.  The  lady  within  era- 
braced  him  again  and  again  in  the  most  affectionate 
manner,  and  flooded  him  with  questions. 

"  But  who  is  with  you  ?  I  wondered  as  you  came 
down  the  avenue,  first  supposing  't  was  Fanny  or 
Molly,  grown  taller  in  my  absence  ;  but  where  is  she 
vanished  ?  "  exclaimed  the  lively  lady,  putting  her 
head  out  to  gaze  at  Agnes,  who  stood  a  little  with 
drawn  and  looking  in  another  direction. 

"  'T  is  a  friend  of  my  own  from  America,"  said 
Frankland,  in  some  confusion. 

"Indeed!  —  and  visiting  at  the  house?" 

But  Frankland's  head  was  turned,  and  he  did  not 
see  the  fleeting  look  of  inquiry,  nor  choose  to  hear 
the  question. 

"  Heavens  !  What  beauty  !  See,  my  lord  !  But 
I  know  not  if  it  be  safe  to  give  you  a  glimpse  of  such 
loveliness.  Pray  present  us,  Harry." 

Frankland  hesitated,  but  seeing  no  escape,  com 
plied. 

"  Miss  Surriage,  my  sister  Lady  Chichester  ;  Lord 
Chichester." 

"  I  count  myself  happy  to  know  you,  madam  ;  we 
shall  become  better  acquainted  before  the  day  is  out, 
I  hope,"  said  the  Countess,  graciously. 

Agnes  gravely  courtesied,  without  returning  either 
the  smile  or  greeting. 

"  A  proud  puss,  your  friend,"  whispered  the  lady, 
tapping  her  brother  upon  the  shoulder ;  "  but  make 


"  FACE    TO  FACE.'1  3C3 

haste  back  from  your  walk,  for  I  have  such  a  deal  to 
say,  and  you  have  to  make  acquaintance  with  your 
new  brother  here,  who  has  come  to  take  you  to 
visit  us." 

Frankland  went  back  to  Agnes  with  a  beaming 
face. 

"  "Pis  my  sister  Anne  ;  she  has  more  sense  and  wit 
than  all  the  rest.  I  told  3^0 u  of  her  marriage,  re 
member,  before  we  left  Boston.  She  has  a  peer  for 
a  husband,  and  deserves  her  good  fortune." 

Mindful  of  his  sister's  injunction,  Frankland 
abridged  their  walk.  They  were  gone  scarcely  an 
hour.  On  the  way  to  their  rooms  they  by  chance 
met  my  Lady  Chichester  upon  the  stairs.  The  lapse 
of  sixty  minutes  had,  it  seemed,  effected  a  great 
change  in  her  ladyship's  mood. 

"  You  see,  Anne,  I  'in  still  a  man  of  my  word ! " 
cried  Frankland,  gayly. 

Her  ladyship  returned  no  answer.  Gathering  tip 
her  rustling  dinner-robe,  distended  by  a  flaring  hoop, 
she  passed  on  without  a  word  or  look  of  recognition. 

Frankland  turned  as  if  to  call  after,  but,  unable  to 
articulate  for  rage,  rushed  off  to  his  own  room  and 
paced  the  floor  with  suppressed  fury. 

Happily,  at  this  juncture  came  a  distraction,  —  a 
packet  just  arrived  by  post,  bearing  the  Government 
seal.  He  opened  it  and  read  it  once  or  twice  through 
before  his  thoughts  were  sufficiently  collected  to  di 
gest  the  contents.  It  proved  to  be  a  foreign  appoint 
ment.  Perhaps  no  more  effective  sedative  to  his 
injured  feelings  could  have  been  devised. 

After  pondering  it  for  a  while  he  took  it  to  Agnes, 


364  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"It  shall  be  my  excuse  for  quitting  this  place 
within  the  hour,"  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  look  of 
exultation.  "  They  shall  not  have  the  satisfaction 
to  suppose  they  have  driven  us  away  with  their 
black  looks.  Call  your  maid,  darling,  and  pack  up 
directly." 

Without  waiting  for  objection  or  remonstrance,  he 
hurried  away  to  push  on  his  own  preparations. 
Within  two  hours  the  carriage  was  at  the  door.  Not 
even  a  servant  came  to  wish  them  godspeed  as  they 
rolled  away. 

Throwing  himself  back  in  the  carriage  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  Frankland  was  silent  until  they  were  clear 
of  the  village,  when  he  suddenly  called  out  to  the 
driver  to  take  the  next  turn  to  the  north.  Agnes 
looked  surprised. 

"  There  's  no  such  pressing  haste  to  reach  London 
now  that  we  are  clear  of  yonder  place,"  he  said  in 
explanation.     "  This    business    of    the    packet    can 
await  our  leisure.     A  part  of  my  plan  in  coming 
north,  my  dear,  which  I  have  been  keeping  as  a  sur 
prise  for  you,  was  to  see  the  estate  of  which  I  have 
just  recovered  the  reversion." 
"Thirkleby?" 
"  Yes." 

"  And  you  have  never  seen  it  ?  " 
"  Never  ;  and  as  it  lies  only  a  day's  journey  to  the 
northward,  and  as  her  Infernal  Majesty  the  present 
owner  is  at  present  digesting  her  late  defeat  in  Lon 
don,  why,  we  may  get  a  peep  of  it,  and  no  one  ever 
the  wiser.  Only  the  outside,  my  dear,"  he  added, 
noting  the  alarm  in  Agnes's  face ;  "  have  no  fear 


"FACE   TO  FACE."  365 

that  I  shall  venture  to  cross  the  threshold.  This 
experience  will  suffice  me  for  a  while." 

Busied  with  natural  reflections  over  the  unhappy 
issue  of  his  visit  home,  upon  which  he  had  fondly 
formed  such  different  expectations,  Frankland  passed 
the  day  in  moody  silence.  To  Agnes  the  journey  was 
illuminated  by  an  unexpected  and  glorious  vision,  — 
the  minster  at  York.  Even  Frankland  was  diverted 
for  the  moment  from  his  own  bitter  reflections  by 
her  ingenuous  wonder  and  fresh  enthusiasm. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  reached  Thirsk,  and 
too  late  that  day  to  visit  Thirkleby  Hall.  After 
supper  at  the  inn  Frankland  fell  into  talk  with  the 
landlord  and  a  group  of  gossips,  with  the  purpose  of 
making  some  guarded  inquiries  about  the  condition 
and  management  of  the  estate.  Agnes,  left  to  herself, 
wandered  through  the  village  to  the  fine  old  church, 
where  she  stood  watching  the  shadows  gather  about 
the  massive  tower  until  the  clock  beneath  the  Gothic 
window  tolling  curfew  warned  her  home. 

Next  morning  they  drove  to  the  Hall.  Frankland 
stopped  the  coach  when  they  were  within  full  and 
unobstructed  view  of  it,  and  gazed  with  profound 
interest  upon  the  home  of  his  ancestors  and  his  own 
future  patrimony,  —  a  large,  imposing  mansion,  with 
an  apsidal  bay  and  a  portico  in  antis,  built  in  the 
style  of  the  Grecian  renaissance,  in  anticipation  of 
the  memorable  publications  of  Stuart  and  Revett, 
which  were  destined  to  revive  the  spirit  of  classicism 
all  over  the  kingdom. 

Frankland  sighed  as  he  turned  away,  perhaps  with 
some  mysterious  premonition  of  the  truth  that  he 


366  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

was  destined  never  to  look  upon  those  stately  walls 
again.  All  the  journey  backward,  too,  he  was  silent 
arid  absorbed,  and  only  when  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  London  recovered  his  cheerfulness. 

There,  after  due  consultation  with  the  Government, 
it  was  determined  that  he  should  be  allowed  some 
months  to  spend  in  travel  before  settling  down  in 
his  new  position. 

Several  busy  weeks  passed  in  preparation  ;  when 
at  last,  having  effected  arrangements  for  the  manage 
ment  of  his  affairs  in  America,  and  committed  his 
English  interests  to  the  guidance  of  trustworthy 
hands,  he  set  out  with  Agnes  for  a  prolonged  tour 
upon  the  Continent. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

A   GAY   CAPITAL. 

APRIL  7.   Returned  ...  to  Lisbon. 

"       8.    Paid  perruque-maker  for  combing  wigs  for  3 

months 7200 

"  "  For  boy  240  — Charges  at  Panada  480  ...  720 
"  "  For  chaise  hire  5400,  chaise  man  400  .  .  .  5800 
"  "  For  singing  man  480  ;  Mr  Home's  servant  480  960 
"  9.  Went  to  Opera. 

"       "     To  milkman  at  40  reaper  pint 1080 

"     11.    To  putting  a  new  glass  to  the  chaise       .     .     .     3200 

"     "      Paid  baker  32  loaves 1280 

"     "      For  borders  3  feet  wide  Persian  ranunculus, 

paracelsus,  jonquils,  red  Turkey,  yellow 

do.  belladonna,  lily. 

"     16.    ToJacinta 480 

"  22.  To  Jacinta  0400.  To  Bacchus  and  Hannah  .  1600 
"  27.  Went  to  the  Opera. 

This  page  from  an  old  memorandum-book  dated 
1755,  and  written  in  his  own  hand,  shows  that  early 
in  the  spring  following  their  departure  from  England 
—  the  winter,  doubtless,  having  been  spent  in  trav 
elling  —  Frankland  was  fairly  settled  ia  his  new 
position  at  the  Portuguese  capital. 

From  a  careful  study  of  these  extracts,  it  further 
appears  that  he  had  already  set  up  a  household  of 
his  own,  in  which  the  two  slaves  Bacchus  and 
Hannah,  brought  from  Hopkinton,  were  reinforced 


368  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

by  divers  native  servants  ;  that  he  still  indulged  his 
old  taste  for  gardening,  as  well  as  a  certain  other  old 
taste,  in  which,  we  may  be  sure,  Agnes  shared  his 
enthusiasm  (for  the  Lisbon  opera  was  then  accounted 
the  best  in  all  Europe)  ;  and  that,  in  fine,  he  was  liv 
ing  after  a  free,  open-handed,  not  to  say  extravagant 
fashion. 

But  let  it  be  remembered,  in  extenuation,  that  the 
Lisbon  of  that  day  was  not  a  place  wherein  to  prac 
tise  economy.  On  the  contrary,  its  idle,  pleasure- 
loving  populace,  borne  along  on  the  flood-tide  of 
national  prosperity,  rioted  in  luxury.  The  stream 
of  gold  which  flowed  into  the  royal  coffers  from 
South  American  mines  was  flung  forth  again  with 
lavish  prodigality.  Incidentally,  domestic  industries 
were  fostered,  foreign  trade  increased,  and  Lisbon 
ranked,  for  the  moment,  with  the  richest  and  most 
flourishing  cities  in  the  world. 

Among  other  evidences  of  commercial  enterprise 
was  a  reciprocity  treaty  with  England,  dating  back 
to  the  time  of  Queen  Anne,  by  which  somebody  in 
that  dull  lady's  name  shrewdly  agreed  to  forego  the 
duties  upon  Portuguese  wines  in  consideration  of  the 
free  entrance  granted  to  British  wool.  The  result 
was  an  influx  of  English  to  the  Portuguese  capital, 
where  they  presently  set  up  a  church,  a  fine  factory 
with  a  banqueting-hall  overhead,  and  had  even  pro 
gressed  to  having  a  cemetery  of  their  own. 

Recommended  by  his  rank,  wealth,  Government 
position,  and  divers  accomplishments,  Frankland  was 
received  with  open  arms  by  this  little  colony  of  his 
countrymen.  A  sufficiently  gay  circle  it  proved,  its 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  369 

cool    British   blood   fired  with    contagion  from    the 
world  without. 

The  world  without,  be  it  said,  reeked  with 
contagion,  and  all  from  one  prolific  plague-spot. 
Compounded  of  a  thousand  traits  and  tendencies 
predetermined  and  perfected  for  that  hour  and  func 
tion,  .Dom  Jose"  I.  was  born  for  the  sceptre  he 
wielded.  Aside  from  the  accident  of  birth,  his 
comely,  sensual  face,  with  its  arching  brows,  lan 
guid  eyes,  full  lips,  and  soft,  curving  chin,  proclaimed 
him  of  a  type  most  fit  to  preside  with  eas}r  grace  over 
a  dissolute  and  luxurious  court.  Well,  too,  it  may 
have  been  for  Portugal  that  such  engrossing  cares 
prevented  any  intermeddling  with  the  real  conduct 
of  affairs  reposed  in  the  masterful  hands  of  Pombai. 

The  business  of  getting  their  household  in  order, 
adapting  their  habits  to  changed  surroundings,  and 
returning  visits  of  ceremony,  so  occupied  the  early 
months  of  their  stay  in  Lisbon  that  Agnes  and 
Frankland  had  little  chance  for  sight-seeing.  An 
old  acquaintance  from  New  England  it  was  who  one 
day  persuaded  them  to  climb  to  the  Castle  of  St. 
George,  where  they  had  their  first  bird's-eye  view 
of  the  city. 

"  Why,  't  is  worse  than  Marblehead  for  disorder," 
cried  Frankland  ;  "  eh,  Agnes  ?  't  is,  I  swear  !  " 

"  Where  be  the  seven  hills  ?  "  asked  Agnes,  in 
equal  surprise. 

"  All  in  the  mind's  eye,  madam,"  answered  Mr. 
Farmer,  their  guide  ;  "  yet  not  quite  all,  either :  take 
away  five,  and  you  have  it.  See  !  if  you  like,  I  will 
give  you  the  plan  of  the  city  in  a  nutshell  ?  " 

24 


370  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Do,  sir !  " 

"  'T  is  simply,  then,  a  valley  betwixt  two  hills :  this 
where  we  stand  and  the  one  opposite.  That  yonder, 
as  you  may  see,  holds  the  most  splendid  buildings,  — 
the  Palace  of  Braganza,  the  Inquisition,  —  that 
gloomy  building  beyond,  —  the  Hospital,  St.  Domi- 
nick,  India  House,  St.  Francisco,  the  Esperanza,  St. 
Vincent,  etc." 

"  And  where  is  the  royal  palace  ?  " 

"  Here,  at  this  end  of  the  valley.  See  it  yonder 
close  upon  the  river's  bank,  with  the  gardens  and 
great  square  in  front !  Next  beyond  is  the  quay,  — 
the  pride  of  the  city.  There  's  not  such  another  in 
Europe.  Along  in  the  valley  below  us  lie  the  prin 
cipal  streets,  and  at  the  other  end  is  the  Rocio" 

"A  building?" 

"  No ;  the  great  square  yonder,  where  they  hold 
their  markets  and  fairs.  So  there  is  the  town  for 
you  ! " 

"  And  all  as  plain  as  day.  Farmer,  I  suspect 
you  of  having  served  an  apprenticeship  at  this 
business ! " 

"  Why,  so  I  have,  by  dragging  sundry  wheezy  and 
asthmatic  countrymen  of  yours  up  the  slope,  but 
have  generally  earned  their  gratitude  for  my  pains." 

"And  so  you  have  ours  ;  but  plunge  us  now  still 
further  in  your  debt,"  said  Frankland,  lazily,  "by 
pointing  out  which  of  all  this  deserves  a  closer 
study  !  " 

"  Why,  first  and  foremost,  by  all  odds,  the  aque 
duct,  —  the  greatest  construction  of  modern  times." 

"Yes,  to  be  sure;  we've  heard  of  that." 


A   GAY  CAPITAL.  371 

"  Then  the  quay,  —  already  mentioned,  —  the 
churches  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  not  to  escape  those,"  interrupted 
Frankland,  laughing. 

"  And  when  the  city  is  exhausted,  the  greatest 
sight  of  all  is  yet  in  store  for  you." 

"Outside  the  town?" 

"  Yes  ;  at  Cintra." 

"  And  what  is  there  ?  " 

"  For  Nature,  the  valley  of  Colares,  which  is  quite 
beyond  compare  ;  and  for  art,  the  great  Monastery  of 
Mafra,  which  —  but  I  will  not  enlarge  ;  words,  after 
all,  can  give  you  but  a  feeble  notion,  and  only  serve 
to  take  off  the  gloss." 

"  In  what  direction  is  this  marvel  ?  " 

".Twenty  miles  or  so  down  the  river ;  a  short  sail." 

"  So,  my  clear,  there  is  work  in  store  for  us,  I  see," 
said  Frankland,  as  they  came  down  the  hill.  "  We 
must  shake  off  these  social  fetters  and  give  ourselves 
to  Nature." 

Arrived  home,  however,  they  found  new  social  fet 
ters  awaiting  them  in  the  form  of  invitations  to  a 
ball  at  the  palace. 

"  Humph !  we  are  in  luck,"  said  Frankland,  studying 
the  royal  crest  upon  the  seal  with  a  gratified  look,  and 
forgetting  his  late  resolution.  "  'T  is  to  be  a  grand 
affair ;  I  've  heard  of  it  buzzing  about  town  these 
some  days,  and  there  is  great  heart-burning  among 
the  neglected.  You  must  have  some  fine  new  duds 
for  this,  girl !  " 

Agnes  showed  no  delight  at  the  prospect,  neither, 
on  the  other  hand,  did  she  betray  any  panic.  The 


372  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

months  passed  since  leaving  England  had  plainly  been 
months  of  experience.  There  was  something  of  it 
written  in  her  face.  The  old  look  of  resignation 
which  had  once  been  but  a  visitor,  had  now  become  a 
tenant,  and  with  it  domiciled  a  haunting  suggestion 
of  sadness,  which  she  seemed  ever  busied  in  detect 
ing  and  vigorously  driving  forth. 

Franldand,  too,  in  the  mean  time  had  gained  some 
thing —  or  was  it  a  loss?  There  was  indubitably  a 
change  in  him,  not  to  be  so  definitely  placed  or  strictly 
defined,  —  something,  perhaps,  to  be  felt  rather  than 
put  into  words.  It  was  not  that  his  dress  was  gayer, 
his  manner  freer,  and  his  talk  more  richly  garnished 
with  oaths  ;  it  was  rather  an  impression,  gathered 
cumulatively  from  air,  talk,  and  manner,  that  he  had 
made  up  with  tenfold  interest  all  he  had  ever  lost  in  the 
wilds  of  America.  Clearly,  now  he  would  have  had 
no  trouble  in  outfacing  the  striplings  at  White's. 

The  ball  fulfilled  its  promise  ;  it  was  very  brilliant. 
The  flower  of  all  the  gay  capital  afforded  in  rank, 
wealth,  and  fashion  was  there,  and  blazing  in  the 
midst,  outshining  Solomon  in  glory  of  apparel,  the 
royal  host.  Surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  courtiers  only 
less  splendid  than  himself,  his  Majesty  most  graciously 
received  the  thronging  procession.  With  a  ready 
memory  for  titles,  ranks,  and  claims  to  favor,  he  dex 
terously  varied  his  form  of  greeting  to  suit  the  in 
dividual.  With  a  discriminating  eye,  too,  for  female 
beauty,  he  suffered  no  fresh  or  pretty  face  to  pass 
without  compliment,  sometimes  bold  and  outspoken, 
or  again  more  significantly  whispered,  varying  the 
monotony  of  the  reception  by  an  occasional  satirical 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  373 

aside  to  his  admiring  courtiers  upon  any  marked  per 
sonality  in  the  obsequious  crowd  bowing  before  him. 
-"Who  is  that  strange-looking  man  with  the  long 
narrow  eyes,  and  a  nose  like  a  hawk's  beak?"  whis 
pered  Agnes  to  Frankland  as  they  stood  apart  after 
being  received. 
"  Where  ?  " 

"  Yonder,  standing  by  the  pillar  ;  a  man  is  talking 
to  him  whom  he  does  not  heed.  See  how  curiously 
he  regards  the  King,  and  with  what  a  sneering  lip 
looks  about  upon  the  people.  There!  Look  now! 
He  turns  this  way,  —  lie  that  wears,  the  order  with 
the  Maltese  cross." 

"  Ha  !  you  may  well  ask." 
"  And  why  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  Richelieu  of  Portugal,  —  the  greatest 
man  in  the  kingdom." 
"  Pombal  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  well  thought  on.  I  have  something  to 
say  to  him.  He  is  not  listening  to  yonder  fool,  and 
I  could  not  have  a  better  opportunity.  I  will  come 
back  to  you  as  soon  as  may  be !  " 

Left  to  herself,  Agnes  recognized  among  the  throng 
many  of  her  new  acquaintance  of  the  English  colony. 
Of  them,  the  better  class  —  the  mercantile  —  was 
lacking.  •  Those  present  were  the  fashionable  sort, 
and  a  motley  set  they  were,  —  scheming  Jacobites, 
amateur  diplomatists,  titled  gamblers,  hungry-looking 
men  of  letters,  and  a  plentiful  sprinkling  of  rakes  of 
both  sexes. 

It  was  one  of  these  latter  who,  to  Agnes's  con 
sternation,  suddenly  came  towards  her  with  a  look 


374  AGNES  SURR1AGE. 

of  recognition,  —  a  lively  dame,  with  a  vast  expanse 
of  bare  bosom,  a  painted  face,  and  a  monstrous  hoop. 

"Good  God,  madam,  what  is  }*our  secret?  Here 
are  you  scarcely  arrived,  and  have  already  engaged 
the  eye  of  the  King  himself!" 

Agnes  started,  and  looked  alarmed.  The  other 
laughed  aloud. 

"  Brava  !  that  start  was  perfection.  A  great  come 
dian  was  lost  in  you  !  Ah,  sly  puss  !  but  you  '11  have 
need  of  all  your  cunning,  for  his  Majesty  is  a  capri 
cious  wooer." 

"  Be  pleased,  madam,  to  bestow  your  conversation 
in  a  quarter  where  it  will  be  more  welcome !  " 
answered  Agnes,  in  high  dudgeon. 

"  Tut,  tut !  what  a  firebrand.  I  meant  no  offence, 
dear  creature  !  Come,  now,  pocket  your  wrath,  and 
admit  me  of  your  counsel !  If  I  lack  your  art,  I  am 
not  quite  without  some  small  skill  in  such  matters  !  " 

Glaring  with  frowning  eyes  upon  the  offender, 
Agnes  made  no  answer.  The  other,  nothing  daunted, 
with  a  cool  wink  of  innuendo  went  on,  — 

"  '  Say,  shall  my  little  bark  attendant  sail, 

Pursue  the  triumph,  and  partake  the  gale  ?  ' 

Ah!  how  dear  Pope  lends  us  the  fitting  word  at 
every  turn.  But  since  your  spleen  is  so  kicked  up, 
I  '11  tease  you  no  more.  Only  bear  in  mind  you  may 
call  upon  me  at  need  !  And  so  —  your  most  obedient 
humble  servant,  madam!"  —  settling  down  with  a 
mock  courtesy  into  her  hoops  as  into  a  barrel. 

Complaining  of  this  experience  to  Franklancl, 
Agnes  only  provoked  a  laugh. 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  375 

"Poh,  my  dear!  You  were  only  baited  with  a 
little  harmless  raillery,  and  must  needs  go  swallowing 
the  hook.  Lady  Betty  is  thought  something  of  a 
wit,  and  would  be  practising.  She  meant,  I  dare 
swear,  but  to  pay  you  a  fine  compliment,  and  gave  it 
this  ingenious  turn  ;  though,  indeed,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  how  his  Majesty  could  have  overlooked  —  " 

"  Come,  sir !  " 

"  Why,  then,  come,  madam ;  let  us  join  the  dan 
cers,  set  our  feet  wagging,  and  give  our  tongues  a 
rest ! " 

Despite  his  gay  banter,  however,  Frankland,  as  it 
soon  appeared,  was  in  no  mood  for  the  rout.  The 
heat  and  press  of  the  ball-room  gave  him  a  head 
ache,  and  after  a  little  he  came  to  Agnes  with  a  sug 
gestion  to  go.  The  plea  of  illness  was  accepted  as 
excuse,  and  they  withdrew  shortly  after  midnight, 
leaving  the  ball  in  full  progress. 

In  order  to  get  clear  of  the  throng  of  carriages 
which  blocked  every  approach  to  the  palace,  the 
coachman  drove  down  a  narrow  street  which  led 
to  the  quay.  Upon  Frankland's  suggestion  they 
stopped  and  walked  down  upon  the  great  mole, 
where,  tempted  by  the  fresh  breeze  and  the  moon 
light,  groups  of  people  were  still  sauntering  about, 
despite  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

Following  down  to  the  outer  edge  of  the  vast 
structure,  they  sat  down  in  silence,  and  with  one 
accord,  under  the  tranquillizing  influence  of  surround 
ings  so  different  from  those  just  left,  —  the  cold  pure 
marble  of  the  massive  masonry  beneath  them,  the 
murmuring  splash  of  the  water  at  its  base,  the  fleeting 


376  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

shadows  of  the  shipping  upon  the  gleaming  tide, 
the  moonlit  stream  itself  outspreading  from  the 
nearer  gloom  in  an  ever-widening  track  of  light 
until  lost  like  a  dream-river  in  the  oozy  mystery 
beyond. 

Soothed  and  refreshed,  they  rose  to  go,  with  re 
luctance.  Sauntering  slowly  down  the  now  almost 
deserted  quay,  as  they  neared  their  carriage  a  group 
of  sailors  issued  from  the  shadow  and  straggled  across 
their  path.  One  lagging  in  the  rear  drew  back  for 
them  to  pass.  A  face  grotesque  and  rugged  as  a 
gargoyle  gleamed  for  an  instant  in  the  moonlight 
and  disappeared.  Agnes  uttered  a  shriek,  and  clung 
to  Frankland's  arm. 

"  What  now  !  eh,  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 

She  only  shuddered  for  answer. 

"Tell  me!  tell  me,  I  say!  Are  you  hurt?  Did 
you  hear,  did  you  see  something  ? " 

"A  spirit!" 

"That  —  poh!  I  saw  it  too.  A  spirit?  Yes,  a 
very  familiar  one.  Nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
lumbering  sailor  in  his  cups,  stupidly  staring  at  such 
a  sudden  revelation  of  beauty." 

The  few  people  left  upon  the  quay,  attracted  by 
the  outcry,  began  to  gather  toward  the  spot,  where 
upon  Frankland  made  haste  to  hand  Agnes  into  the 
carriage  and  drive  away. 

Arrived  home,  she  still  showed  traces  of  her  late 
agitation,  but  would  give  no  cause  for  it,  nor,  indeed, 
talk  about  it  at  all.  As  next  morning  she  seemed 
quite  recovered,  Frankland,  if  he  gave  the  matter  a 
thought,  evidently  considered  it  not  worth  reviving. 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  877 

Two  or  three  days  afterwards,  however,  when  he 
came  in  with  the  commonplace  news  that  a  Boston 
ship  was  in  port,  Agnes  so  plainly  repressed  a  start 
that  he  could  not  but  note  it,  and  pondering  the  sub 
ject,  evidently  worked  out  some  theory  of  explanation 
satisfactory  to  himself,  for  he  presently  burst  out :  — 

"  You  keep  housed  too  much,  girl.  How  is  it  you 
never  go  abroad  now-a-days  ?  " 

"  The  city  is  strange  to  me,  and  you  seem  to  like 
best  to  go  alone." 

"I  —  eh  —  poh  !  What  fol-de-rol !  You  are  always 
busy  when  I  chance  to  be  going,  I  suppose  ;  but  come, 
I  —  I "  —  yawning  —  "  will  go  with  you  at  any  time. 
Where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  Nowhere  for  me,  you  needn't." 

"  That  place  of  Farmer's  —  what  d'  ye  call  it  ?  Cin- 
tra.  Egad!  that's  it;  we'll  go  to  Cintra.  I'll  make 
a  party  up  for  to-morrow,  if  I  live,  and  meantime  you 
shall  go  with  me  to-day  at  high  meridian  to  see  the 
King  wash  the  beggars'  feet." 

"  I  beg  you  will  excuse  me." 

"There  you  go  !  What  becomes  now  of  the  force 
of  your  reproach  ?  " 

"I  meant  not  to  accuse  you,  but  excuse  myself." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  what  you  meant ;  since  you  suc 
ceeded  in  killing  both  birds,  why,  take  the  credit  of 
it.  But  come  along,  I  say  ;  'tis  a  very  edifying  spec 
tacle, —  oh,  vastly  so  ;  one  comes  away  with  his  spirit 
uplifted !  The  dirtier  the  feet  and  the  lousier  the 
beggar  the  better  for  the  soul;  besides  which,  all  the 
fashion  of  the  town  will  lend  its  countenance  !  " 

But  Agnes  still  persisted  in  her  refusal. 


378  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

"  Obstinacy,  thy  name  is  Surriage  !  Why,  then, 
stay  at  home,  and  my  blessing  with  you ;  or,  what 
is  be-fcter,  call  for  the  chaise  and  go  buy  some  kick 
shaws  to  send  home  to  your  mother  in  tins  American 
ship." 

"It  —  she  is  to  sail  soon  ?" 

"  Yes,"  consulting  a  memorandum,  "  hum-hum, 
hum-hum  !  '  Pathfinder,'  Monday  week  ;  and  mean 
time  I  have  to  make  up  a  box  to  send  to  Sheafe  ;  but 
—  but  I  must  go,  or  lose  the  sight  —  I  must  go,  I  say ! 
What,  no  response  yet  ?  Heigh-ho !  times  change  ; 
you  used  to  salute  me  on  a  much  slighter  occasion." 

Despite  her  bustling  movement  there  was  a  sound 
something  like  a  sob  as  Agnes  quickly  left  the  room. 
Frankland  looked  after  her  with  a  momentary  sur 
prise  ;  then  tossing  his  head  with  a  scarcely  percepti 
ble  motion  and  closing  the  scene  with  an  indolent 
smile,  he  adjusted  his  hat  carefully  over  his  new 
peruke  and  went  his  way  to  the  palace. 

The  party  to  Cintra  was  made  up  of  the  confess 
edly  choice  spirits  of  the  English  colony,  —  Lord 
Torksey,  Sir  William  Winton,  Dr.  Outwell,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Churchill,  Mr.  Home,  Mr.  Vincent,  Lady 
Betty,  and  others.  It  was  strange  Agnes  should 
not  feel  at  home  among  these  merry  and  nimble- 
witted  folks ;  yet  it  was  plain  enough  she  did 
not.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  found  herself 
somewhat  at  a  loss  in  the  cross-fire  of  their  rail 
lery,  where  the  conversational  shot  and  shell  flew 
about  so  as  to  bewilder  her.  Or  it  might  have 
been  because  —  luckily  for  herself  —  she  could  not 
see  the  point  of  half  their  joking  or  understand 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  379 

the  abounding  allusions  and  innuendoes  with  which 
their  talk  was  seasoned.  As,  moreover,  she  had  an 
ungracious  fashion  of  smiling  only  at  what  she  ap 
proved,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  her  disgust  at 
indecency,  she  had  as  yet  made  small  advance  in 
popularity  in  her  new  home. 

Cintra !  Why  attempt  to  tell  again  what  has  been 
told  for  all  time!  Turn  backward  or  forward,  as  the 
phrase  may  suit,  to  the  opening  canto  of  "  Childe 
Harold."  A  half-century  more  or  less  can  make  no 
difference  in  a  spot  uncursed  by  man's  abode.  'T  is 
the  self-same  picture  Agnes  and  Frankland  looked 
upon,  where  "  horrid  crags  by  toppling  convent 
crowned,"  "  cork-trees  hoar,"  "  mountain  mosses," 
"sunken  glen,"  "sunless  shrubs,"  "tender  azure," 
"  orange  tints,"  "  vine  and  willow  branch," 

"Mixed  in  one  mighty  scene  with  varied  beauty  glow." 

Leaving  behind  the  mighty  scene  after  a  fitting 
tribute  of  ecstasies,  they  pushed  on  over  a  desolate 
track  to  Mafra,  and  climbing  up  the  steep  hill  which 
it  so  majestically  crowns,  came  suddenly  out  upon  the 
open  square  before  it,  and  forthwith  wreaked  their 
breathless  and  undiscriminating  enthusiasm  upon  the 
great  building. 

"  Stupendous ! " 

"  Amazing  ! " 

"  Prodigious ! " 

"  What  a  magnificent  church  !" 

"  You  mean  monastery  !  " 

"  Palace  —  palace,  man.  Cannot  you  see  for  your 
self  't  is  a  palace  ?  " 


380  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  And  so  it  is,"  said  Lord  Torksey,  settling  the 
dispute,  "  all  three  in  one :  the  two  former  enclosed 
in  the  latter.  But  here  comes  the  guide,  no  doubt. 
Here,  you  fellow,"  —  beckoning  the  man,  —  "come 
here  and  tell  your  story !  " 

"  This  most  wonderful  structure  in  the  world," 
began  the  guide  in  his  professional  manner,  "  was 
built  by  John  V.  of  Braganza,  who  falling  sick  and 
thinking  himself  about  to  die  vowed,  if  he  lived, 
to  build  this  palace  for  the  poorest  priory  in  his 
kingdom." 

"  Which  he  meant  should  outdo  the  Escurial," 
interposed  his  lordship. 

"  As  indeed  it  does,"  added  Frankland,  "in  every 
thing  but  taste." 

"  And  vie  with  St.  Peter's  itself  —  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  St.  Peter's  is  nothing  but  a 
dome,  and  here  is  endless  variety." 

"  So  there  should  be,  since  artists  all  over  the  world 
had  a  finger  in  the  pie." 

But  the  dispute  between  Lord  Torksey  and  Frank- 
land  was  drowned  in  a  clamor  of  exclamation. 

"  Mark  you  those  colossal  red  columns!" 

"  And  think  of  their  being  cut  from  a  single 
block ! " 

"  See,  too,  the  enormous  size  of  the  black  marble 
tablets  yonder  in  the  wall!" 

"And  the  wonderful  mosaics!" 

"  'T  is  said,  you  know,  there  are  six  organs  in  the 
chapel." 

"  But  not  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  whole  structure." 

"How  monstrous  odd  !  " 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  381 

"  What 's  to  keep  the  holy  friars  from  rheumatics?  " 

"  There  are  no  friars  !  " 

"  No  monks !     What 's  gone  with  'em  ?  " 

"Put  out,  neck  and  heels!  They  grew  so  bloated 
with  high  living  and  puffed  up  with  arrogance  that 
Pombal  sent  them  packing." 

"And  served  'em  right,  —  the  pampered  rascals !  " 

"  Before  they  came  hither  to  lodge,  't  is  said,  the 
whole  brotherhood  lived  like  swine  in  one  squalid  hut." 

"Come,  Sir  Harry,"  cried  Dr.  Outwell,  bursting  in 
on  the  general  talk  after  a  whispering  apart  with  the 
guide,  "  tell  us  how  far  is  it  across  to  yonder  corner, 
—  what 's  the  measurement  of  this  front  in  width?  " 

"Humph!"  —  with  a  look  of  calculation — "five 
hundred  feet  or  less." 

"  Poh!  't  is  nearer  a  thousand  !  " 

"Never!" 

"I'll  lay  you  something  worth  while,"  winking 
slyly  at  those  standing  near. 

"  What  you  will  !  " 

"  Let  it  be  a  supper,  then,  for  the  party !  " 

"Done!" 

"  This  very  night." 

"Agreed!" 

"  But  no,  no  ;  I  will  not  take  your  money." 

"  Ho,  ho,  sir  !  you  withdraw  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  take  advantage  of  your  youth  and 
inexperience." 

"  You  are  vastly  considerate." 

"To  deal  fair  with  you,  I  have  knowledge  upon 
the  point." 

"  Come,  sir,  this  stale  device  shall  not  serve  you  !  " 


382  AGNES   SURRIAGE. 

"  But  I  assure  you  — " 

"  Why,  for  the  matter  of  that,  so  have  I.  No,  no  ; 
I  will  not  let  you  off." 

"  You  deserve  your  fate,  then." 

"  All  this  bravado  shall  not  avail  you." 

"  Gentlemen,  bear  me  witness!"  cried  the  Doctor, 
appealing  to  the  party.  "  I  have  warned  him,  and  —  " 

"  Come,  come,  sir  ;  the  proof!  You  shall  not  es 
cape,  I  say.  Here,  my  man,"  —  beckoning  the  guide, 
—  "  what 's  the  measurement  of  this  fa£ade  ?  " 

"  Seven  hundred  and  sixty  feet,  to  a  hair." 

"  Beaten,  egad  !  and  by  a  beggarly  ten  feet.  La 
dies  and  gentlemen,"  with  a  profound  congee,  "you 
are  to  do  me  the  honor  of  supping  with  me  to 
night  !  " 

The  invitation  was  accepted  Nwith  shouts  of 
applause. 

The  party  returned  to  the  city  in  time  to  sleep  off 
the  fatigues  of  the  day  and  make  a  fresh  toilet  for 
their  impromptu  banquet. 

They  came  together  accordingly  in  the  evening,  in 
high  good-humor,  and  loudly  complimented  Agnes 
upon  the  elegant  appearance  of  the  table  she  had 
spread  in  such  haste.  The  talk  at  supper  naturally 
turned  upon  the  day's  experience. 

"  I  cannot  but  think  of  those  poor  priests  turned  out 
from  their  luxurious  quarters,"  said  Mrs.  Churchill, 
Frankland's  next  neighbor  at  table. 

"  Yes,  madam.  Pornbal  is  a  bold  man  ;  but  this  is 
not  his  first  offence,  —  he  defied  the  wrath  of  Rome 
long  ago  by  his  proceedings  against  the  Inquisition." 

"  I  wonder  he  dared." 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  383 

"It  is  not  Rome  alone  he  has  had  to  encounter," 
spoke  up  Lord  Torksey  from  the  other  end  of  the 
table.  "  'T  was  thought  the  mob  would  tear  him  to 
pieces  when  he  put  an  end  to  the  miracles  in  the 
churches." 

"  But  they  were  false  miracles,"  said  Agnes,  at  his 
side  ;  "  and  it  was  surely  a  good  office  to  save  the 
people  from  imposition  by  them." 

"  No  more  false  than  any  miracles." 

"  You  forget,  sir,  the  miracles  of  Holy  Writ?" 

"  I  do  not,  madam  ;  one  miracle  is  the  same  as 
another.  They  are  all  lies,  cheats,  and  impostures." 

Agnes  looked  so  profoundly  shocked  that  his  lord 
ship  laughed  aloud. 

"  Pardon,  madam  ;  your  rueful  countenance  quite 
undid  me  !  But  you  should  read  Voltaire's  account 
of  a  miracle.  Do  you  remember,  Sir  Harry,  the 
dead  man  brought  to  life  after  being  several  days 
defunct?  All  the  gases  blown  away  by  the  winds, 
the  worms  which  have  eaten  the  entrails  have  been 
eaten  by  swallows,  the  swallows  by  something  else, 
and  these  again  by  falcons,  and  so  on  ;  each  must 
restore  that,  and  only  that,  he  has  taken  ;  and  when 
all  is  done,  nothing  of  any  avail  without  the  soul." 

"  Hear,  hear  1  " 

"  What  now  ?  " 

"  What 's  his  lordship  at,  —  philosophy  or  po 
lemics  ?  " 

The  exclamations  came  from  all  sides. 

"  Sound  sense,  whatever  else  you  may  call  it," 
said  Dr.  Outwell,  across  the  table.  "  Go  on,  sir.  — 
Elsewhere  your  Frenchman  makes  another  good 


384  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

point ;  to  wit,  that  the  more  incredible  j^our  miracle 
is,  the  readier  't  is  believed.  You,  madam,"  turning 
to  Agnes,  "  accept  those  in  the  Bible  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly,  sir." 

"  That  is,  you  grant  to  the  Jews  a  monopoly  of 
doing  wonders.  But  let  me  tell  you,  madam,  other 
nations  are  not  to  be  denied  an  equal  privilege.  In 
other  words,  all  these  peoples  swear  by  their  own 
tricks  and  lies,  and  discredit  those  of  their  neighbors. 
For  the  matter  of  that,  the  Greeks  and  Egyptians 
leave  the  Jews  quite  in  the  shade  in  this  business  of 
the  miraculous  ;  for  every  wonder  claimed  by  the 
Jews,  they  will  match  it  with  a  greater  prodigy. 
They  do  as  did  a  certain  famous  advocate  to  whom 
was  produced  a  false  bond ;  he  did  not  trouble 
himself  to  plead  to  it,  but  directly  produced  a  false 
quittance.  The  instance  is  not  mine,  madam,  but 
Voltaire's." 

"  No  more  is  the  reasoning,"  broke  in  Sir  Wil 
liam  Winton,  on  the  hostess's  other  hand.  "  'T  is 
all  admirably  set  forth  in  the  '  Essai  sur  les  Moeurs,' 
etc." 

"  Your  Voltaire,  witty  as  he  may  be,"  answered 
Agnes,  stoutly,  "  shall  not  persuade  me  to  discredit 
anything  set  down  in  the  Holy  Scriptures." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  dear!"  cried  Frankland,  a  little 
flushed  with  wine ;  "  you  do  small  credit  to  my 
teachings.  But  tell  these  gentlemen  we  need  not 
cross  the  Channel  for  good  sense  in  these  matters. 
Our  own  Bolingbroke  has  said  many  things  quite  as 
much  to  the  point." 

"  Oh,  they  're  all  piping  to  the  self-same  tune,  are 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  385 

our  great  wits.  Lord  Chesterfield,  'tis  notorious, 
holds  the  like  views,"  said  Churchill. 

"And  Shaftesbury  too,"  added  Sir  William. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Frankland,  "  there  is  some  nota 
ble  talk  in  his  '  Characteristics.'  " 

"  He  makes  a  bold  stand  there  for  independence," 
said  his  lordship,  "  and  claims  that  that  man  alone  is 
free  who  has  in  himself  no  hindrance  in  doing  what 
his  best  judgment  approves." 

"  What,  sir !  "  said  Agnes,  recoiling  slightly  as  she 
realized  the  drift  of  the  discussion,  "  would  you 
have  me  believe  you  a  sceptic?" 

"  As  Sir  Harry  shall  define  to  you  what  a  sceptic 
is,  I  will  avow  myself  of  the  class." 

"  A  sceptic,"  said  Frankland,  promptly,  "  is  a 
philosopher  who  has  doubted  all  he  believes,  and 
believes  only  what  his  reason  has  demonstrated 
true." 

"Fie,  sir!  now  you  are  stealing  thunder  from 
across  the  Channel,"  laughed  the  doctor  ;  "  't  was  but 
a  minute  since  — " 

"  True  ;  I  plead  guilty,  and  must  needs  confess 
that  while  we  rival  our  neighbors  in  boldness  of 
thought,  we  come  far  short  of  their  happy  knack  of 
putting  things." 

"  Yes,  in  that  respect,"  said  Churchill,  "  Diderot  dis 
tances  all  the  world  :  he  has  the  knack  to  perfection." 

"  That  he  has,"  chimed  in  Lady  Betty,  interrupt 
ing  a  whispered  tete-d-tete  with  her  host ;  "  his 
'  Pensees  '  are  very  jewels." 

"Are  they  not,  madam?"  cried  Home,  enthusias 
tically.  "Where  is 't  he  says  something  like  that 

25 


386  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

just  quoted  by  Sir  Harry  —  oh,  very  like  indeed? 
A  plague  on  my  memory  !  But  what  matter  for  the 
words  !  It  was  to  the  general  effect  that  what  one 
has  never  put  in  question  has  not  been  proved,  and 
what  one  has  not  examined  without  prejudice  has  not 
been  examined." 

"  Yes,"  broke  in  Frankland  ;  "  but  Diderot  will 
none  of  your  half-hearted  sceptics,  like  Vincent  yon 
der,  who  dares  not  give  his  thoughts  tongue,  and  is 
frighted  by  consequences.  Pass  him  the  bottle,  and 
prod  him  up  !  " 

Vincent  filled  his  glass,  and  retorted,  — 

"  '  Incredulity  is  sometimes  the  vice  of  a  fool, 
and  credulity  the  fault  of  a  man  of  wit.'  There  's 
another  pens£e  for  you,  and  from  betwixt  the  same 
covers." 

"'Tis  time  for  all  this  fine  sentiment  to  develop 
into  action,"  cried  Lord  Torksey,  rising  with  a  brim 
ming  glass  and  a  vinous  bravado  of  manner.  "  Here 's 
a  long  life  to  Reason,  and  a  speedy  downfall  to  priests 
and  churches  ! " 

"  What,  sir ! "  gasped  Agnes ;  "  would  you  put  an 
end  to  churches  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart !  What  are  they  but  machines 
of  superstition  ?  " 

"  Pray  you,  sir,"  interposed  Lady  Betty,  "  make 
an  exception  of  the  dear  Catholic  churches,  which  on 
great  occasions  are  as  diverting  as  a  playhouse.  By 
the  bye,  Sir  Harry,  to-morrow  is  All  Saints,  when  the 
performance  is  like  to  be  excellent;  what  say  you, 
shall  we  go? — always  with  your  leave,  madam," 
bowing  with  mock  deference  to  Agnes. 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  387 

"  Sir  Harry  needs  not  my  permission  to  go  where 
he  will ;  else,  be  assured,  madam,  he  would  never  go 
to  a  Christian  church  to  make  sport  of  the  service." 

"  Fie,  fie,  my  dear  !  Spare  me  before  my  guests  ! 
You  may  see  now,  ladies,"  —  winking  at  those  near 
est  at  hand,  —  "  where  I  come  by  the  store  of  virtue 
for  which  I  am  so  justly  admired !  " 

"  Pray  you,  madam,  suffer  him  to  unbend  !  " 

"  I  warrant  you  he  shall  do  nothing  so  very 
wicked !" 

"  Nay,  I  '11  engage  he  shall  be  better  than  half 
them  that  go  to  pray  !  " 

"  Which  would  you  rather,  madam,  that  he  were  — 
a  scoffer,  or  a  hypocrite  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  him  man  enough  not  to  be  prevailed 
upon  by  evil  counsels  to  do  what  his  conscience 
approves  not,"  answered  Agnes  in  her  sonorous  con 
tralto,  and  with  unmistakable  emphasis. 

"  Tut !  tut !  " 

"Fie!  fie!" 

u  Heyday  !  " 

A  chorus  of  deprecation  arose  from  the  table. 

"  How  are  we  paid  for  our  levity  ! "  cried  Lady 
Betty,  with  an  affectation  of  dismay.  "  I  swear  to 
you,  there  is  not  enough  of  me  remaining  to  fill  a  snuff 
box.  'Tis  no  marvel  it  has  so  silenced  Sir  Harry 
that  he  has  no  answer  to  my  invitation." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  shall  tempt  fate  by  accept 
ing  it.  At  what  hour  shall  I  wait  upon  your  lady 
ship  ?  " 

"  In  time  for  the  High  Mass  at  ten  o'clock,  for  then 
the  pageant  will  be  at  its  height." 


388  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Agreed,"  said  Franldand,  not  without  a  sly  look 
askance  at  Agnes.  "  But  how  is  this  ?  nobody  drink 
ing  !  Fill  up !  fill  up  !  and  let  us  have  a  toast !  " 

"I  —  allow  me,  Sir  Harry  —  I  have  a  toast,"  cried 
a  young  man  whose  utterance  proved  the  host's 
reproach  to  be  unjust. 

"Hear,  hear!" 

"I  say  —  saints  have  ruled  th'  roast  long  enough. 
I  say  —  down  with  saints  'n'  up  with  sinners  — 
Here  's  —  er  —  here  's  to  All  Sinners'  Day  !  " 

The  company  had  reached  that  happy  stage  when 
this  readily  passed  muster  as  humor,  and  was  greeted 
with  uproarious  applause. 

"  Have  a  care,  sir,  that  }^ou  are  not  tempted  into 
impiety,"  said  Agnes,  as  the  speaker  resumed  his  seat. 

Flashed  with  the  success  of  his  toast,  the  young 
man  stared  stupidly  at  her,  collecting  himself  for  a 
reply,  when  Sir  William  came  to  his  aid. 

"  Faith,  and  so  you  will,  tell  our  fair  hostess,  when 
she  shall  accomplish  what  the  great  Diderot  quailed 
before,  and  define  impiety,  —  consider  the  quandary, 
madam,  — '  The  Christian  is  impious  in  Asia,  the  Mus 
sulman  in  Europe,  the  Papist  in  London,  the  Calvin- 
ist  at  Paris,  the  Jansenist  at  the  head  of  Rue  St. 
Jacques,  the  Moliniste  at  the  bottom  of  the  Fau 
bourg  St.  M^dard.'  " 

"  Sir,  I  have  neither  the  skill  nor  learning  to  dis 
pute  with  you  ;  but  one  may  easily  escape  all  imputa 
tion  of  the  sort  by  a  due  regard  for  sacred  things." 

"  And  who  shall  say  what  is  sacred  ?  The  Dog 
Anubis  would  claim  as  little  homage  here  as  the 
respectable  personages  of  the  Trinity  in  Egypt." 


A    GAY  CAPITAL.  389 

"  Shame !  For  shame,  sir !  I  will  hear  no  more 
such  blasphemy !  "  cried  Agnes,  starting  from  her 
seat  in  horror  and  indignation. 

"  Fie  !  fie  !  my  dear,  how  peevish  you  are  to  night ! 
Come,  sit  you  down,  and  show  these  ladies  and  gen 
tlemen  that  you  have  too  much  good  sense  to  take 
offence  at  a  harmless  pleasantry  uttered  at  your  own 
table  !  " 

"  Why,  madam,  I  am  sure  I  had  rather  cut  my 
tongue  out  than  have  vexed  you  so  !  " 

"  And  I,  believe  me  !  " 

"I  had  no  thought  but  that  we  were  all  of  one 
kind  here  to-night." 

"  Praj^,  Sir  Hariy,  promise  the  dear  lady  we  will 
offend  no  more  in  that  fashion  !  " 

"  And  that  I  will  release  you  from  going  to  Mass 
to-morrow  if,  as  is  most  likely,  that  be  the  real  cause 
of  her  vexation,"  said  Lady  Betty,  joining  the  chorus 
of  disclaimers. 

For  all  answer,  Agnes  made  a  dignified  courtesy 
to  the  expostulating  circle  and  withdrew,  Frankland 
hastening  after  to  open  the  door  and  whisper  a  last 
remonstrance  in  her  ear. 

A  burst  of  laughter  followed  her  as  she  went  up 
stairs  to  her  own  room.  Thence,  having  gone  to 
bed,  she  heard  the  merriment  below  wax  more  and 
more  uproarious,  and  at  last  die  gradually  away  in 
a  vague  uproar  as  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ALL  SAINTS'  DAY. 

THE  morrow  came,  —  a  day  to  lure  all  the  saints 
back  to  earth,  to  hear  into  what  surprising 
favor  they  were  grown  in  the  places  where  once  they 
were  scourged,  tortured,  hanged,  and  roasted  alive. 
The  white  walls  of  Lisbon  shone  with  dazzling  radi 
ance  in  the  morning  sun.  Turret  and  spire  from 
church,  convent,  and  palace  rose  in  glittering  relief 
against  a  cloudless  sky.  Under  a  surface  dead  and 
shining  as  glass  the  Tagus  hid  its  swift,  resistless,  sea 
ward  flow.  Far  off  to  the  southwest,  like  a  deep-blue 
zone  against  the  paler  sky,  lay  the  sleeping  ocean, 
sending  inland  a  faint  and  fickle  breath  to  stir  the 
perfume  from  the  late-blooming  roses  in  the  royal 
gardens  at  Alcantara,  or  shake  out  the  blue-and- 
white  banner  above  the  turrets  of  St.  George. 

No  serener  day  ever  dawned  upon  fair  and  filthy 
Lisbon  ;  nor  did  the  sun  in  all  his  endless  round  look 
down  upon  such  another  whited  sepulchre.  Here 
dwelt,  cheek  by  jowl,  in  comfortable  neighborhood, 
magnificence  and  squalor,  —  a  picturesque  pair,  each 
much  beholden  to  the  other.  Not  a  year  before,  the 
keen-eyed  Fielding,  who  was  far  from  fastidious, 
called  the  fair  capital  of  Portugal  "  the  nastiest  city 
in  the  world."  It  need  only  be  added  that  his 


ALL  SAINTS'  DAY.  391 

standard  of  comparison  was  the  London  of  the  eigh 
teenth  century.  Saint  Sanitas  was  plainly  not  yet 
of  the  calendar ;  for  hard  by  the  splendid  churches 
in  which  was  preparing  the  gorgeous  ceremonial  of 
High  Mass  on  that  All  Saints'  morning  were  hundreds 
of  dark,  narrow,  unpaved  streets,  in  which  lay  muck 
and  ordure  ankle-deep,  in  which  lay  heaps  of  offal, 
foul  rags,  rotten  bones,  and  all  uncleanness.  Amid 
it  all  little  children  played,  —  foul  little  darlings 
with  tangled  hair,  and  faces  incrusted  with  dirt,  — 
sucking  in,  as  their  native  air,  the  noxious  stenches 
which  rose  to  pollute  the  wholesome  breath  of 
heaven. 

But  what  then !  The  stench  did  not  reach  his 
Majesty  in  his  palace  yonder  surrounded  by  rose- 
gardens.  His  hands  were  not  begrimed  with  dirt, 
but  washed  white  in  perfumed  water,  loaded  with 
rings,  and  hung  with  lace  ;  yet  for  all  his  silken  hose, 
it  is  much  to  be  doubted  whether  even  his  Majesty's 
feet  were  clean. 

As  for  Pombal,  he  had  his  hands  too  full  with  the 
Jesuits  and  the  Inquisition  to  bother  his  head  with 
scavenging.  Who  had  ever  heard  of  a  statesman 
concerning  himself  with  dirt?  If  an  epidemic  came, 
why,  it  had  pleased  the  dear  God  to  send  it,  and 
Masses  must  be  said,  and  offerings  to  Our  Lady  of 
Safety,  to  quiet  the  people.  Meantime  everybody 
was  happy  ;  the  children  laughed  at  their  gambols  in 
the  muck,  the  carrion-fly  buzzed  above  the  offal,  and 
the  sun  bred  maggots  in  the  seething  mass. 

Everybody  was  happy,  and  grudged  not  to  show 
it ;  with  their  holiday  humor  they  put  on  their  holi- 


392  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

day  dress, — drooping  hats  arid  cavalier  cloaks  for 
the  men,  gay  bodices,  heavy  ear-rings,  and  the  long- 
tasselled  redecilla  for  the  women.  How  gayly  they 
laughed  and  chattered  on  their  way  to  Mass,  as  they 
picked  their  steps  without  a  sniff  of  disgust  in  and 
out  among  the  rubbish,  slime,  and  puddles ! 

Lady  Betty  slept  late  that  morning.  It  was  broad 
day  when  her  maid  pulled  aside  the  curtains.  But 
although  this  was  according  to  her  own  express  direc 
tions,  her  ladyship  was  inclined  to  be  peevish,  and 
swore  roundly  at  the  abigail  for  disturbing  her.  In 
deed,  as  a  matter  of  fact  her  ladyship  had  not  been 
long  in  bed,  and  must  naturally  have  felt  somewhat 
jaded  after  her  carouse  of  the  night  before. 

Ordering  breakfast  to  be  served  among  her  pil 
lows,  she  restored  the  tone  of  her  spirits  by  a  dash 
of  eau-de-vie  in  her  dish  of  tea,  and  submitted  her 
self  at  length  in  somewhat  better  temper  to  the 
hands  of  her  maid. 

The  maid — poor  woman !  — had  a  grievous  task,  and 
exhausted  all  the  resources  of  her  art  in  the  endeavor 
to  make  anything  presentable  of  the  wrinkled  and 
haggard  face  before  her.  By  dint,  however,  of  plas 
tering  a  double  coat  of  rouge  upon  the  saffron 
cheeks,  touching  up  the  lips  and  eyebrows,  and  add 
ing  one  or  two  supplementary  patches  here  and  there, 
she  produced  a  result  which,  however  unlike  anything 
human  or  natural,  stood  the  test  of  the  broad  glare 
of  light  in  which  Lady  Betty  herself,  with  a  look  of 
no  little  satisfaction,  criticised  it. 

This  chief  labor  of  the  toilet  done,  the  rest  was 
simple  enough;  and  accordingly  in  a  few  minutes 


ALL   SAINTS'  DAY.  393 

more,  arrayed  in  her  fine  Paris  gown  and  dainty 
French  shoes,  equipped  with  her  fan,  her  snuff-box, 
her  smelling-salts,  and  an  enveloping  aroma  of  civet, 
Lady  Betty  was  ready  to  encounter  the  world. 

Frankland  was  already  sitting  in  his  chaise  at  the 
door  when  she  came  down.  He,  too,  lacked  some 
thing  of  his  wonted  freshness.  His  eyes  were  dim 
and  his  air  a  little  heavy ;  but  he  was  speedily  ral 
lied  into  a  livelier  expression  by  the  archness  of  his 
companion. 

"  Good  Lord,  sir  !  I  am  extremely  shocked  to  have 
kept  you  waiting.  I  will  not,  however,  inquire  how 
long  it  hath  been,  lest  it  unsettle  my  nerves." 

"  I  am  but  just  arrived,  madam." 

"  A  pretty  fib  !  " 

"  I  protest." 

"  So  much  the  better ;  for  the  thought  of  losing 
one  minute  of  such  society — " 

"  Tut,  tut !  " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  ten  minutes'  such  loss  would  fill 
the  day  with  misery  !  But  how  does  madam  this 
morning  ?  Has  she  forgiven  our  pranks  ?  Ha !  ha  ! 
ha!  Poor  puss!  How  could  she  be  other  than 
jealous  of  such  a  man?" 

"  Your  ladyship  flatters  me.  But  there  you  are 
wrong.  Miss  Surriage's  spleen  was  not  on  my  ac 
count.  I  wish  it  had  been  !  No,  no ;  odd  as  it  may- 
seem,  she  is  sincerely  pious." 

"  What !  after  all  these  years  in  such  company? " 

"  Egad !  I  have  tried  hard  enough  to  cure  her  of  it." 

"  And  she  has  been  curing  you,  instead  ?  " 

"Eh?" 


394  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"  Come,  you  shall  explain  !  " 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,  —  O  Lord,  I  am  like  to  burst 
with  laughing  !  —  you  yourself  are  suspected  of  piety 
-ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"I,  madam?" 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  another  year  among  those  Puritan 
winners  would  have  spoiled  you." 

"  How  now ;  am  I  not  saucy  enough  to  suit  you  ?  " 

"  You  are  but  half-hearted  in  your  sport.  Many 
are  of  the  opinion  that  a  most  enchanting  rake  was 
lost  in  you." 

"  I  shall  take  care  the  opinion  spreads  no  further." 

"  Fie,  fie,  sir !  Unhold  me !  We  are  very  public 
here ;  who  knows  but  we  may  meet  madam  herself 
on  the  way  to  church  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  we  are  safe  from  her.  But  what  if  we 
did  ?  I  am  my  own  man,  I  hope  !  " 

"  Why,  to  be  frank  with  you,  'tis  whispered  not." 

"As  how?" 

"  That  you  are*  tied  very  securely  to  the  sly  Puri 
tan's  apron-string." 

Frankland  blushed  with  vexation,  and  bit  his  lip. 
His  companion  laughed  aloud. 

"  And  is  that  said  of  me  ?  " 

"  Indeed  is  it." 

"  Why,  I  will  disprove  it  by  spending  this  very 
evening  with  your  ladyship.  Shall  it  be  a  party  of 
two,  or  more  ?  " 

"  Two,  by  all  the  saints  we  celebrate,  —  such 
another  chance  may  never  offer  itself.  But  madam 
will  hate  me." 


ALL   SAINTS'  DAY.  395 

"  She  need  not  know." 

"Then  you  are  afraid  to  tell?" 

"  Not  I ;  't  was  but  to  shield  your  ladyship." 

"Oh,  I  have  not  yet  reached  that  pitch  of  awe  of 
her !  " 

"Very  good,  then.  I  will  acquaint  her  of  my 
whereabouts.  But  where  shall  we  sup  ?  " 

"  At  my  lodgings,  if  you  can  make  them  serve  the 
occasion." 

"  Agreed  ;  I  shall  be  with  you  !  " 

"  Do  look,  sir,  how  the  streets  are  swarming !  I 
have  never,  in  all  my  stay  here,  seen  such  a  press ; 
and  all  —  poor  fools !  —  on  the  way  to  church." 

"  What  is  the  magnet  draws  them  ?" 

"  Why,  partly  the  show,  of  course,  as  in  our  case  ; 
but  chiefly,  they  would  pray  for  their  sins.  To-day 
there  is  a  chance  of  getting  all  these  dead  saints  o' 
their  side  to  say  prayers  in  their  behalf.  Lord,  sir! 
to  what  good  is  all  this  genuflection?  What  had 
you  ever  yet  in  answer  to  your  prayers  ?  " 

"I  have  wasted  no  breath  that  way  these  late 
years." 

"  Nor  I,  —  ha  !  ha !  ha !  My  maid  —  silly  wench !  — 
affects  to  pray  for  me ;  but  my  sins  were  long  ago 
past  my  own  poor  skill  in  reckoning ;  yet  I  do  not 
see  but  we  fare  as  well  —  you  and  I  —  as  this  sort 
who  are  forever  mumbling  prayers.  Why,  I  should 
have  no  time  for  my  picquet,  my  airings,  my  balls, 
suppers,  and  innocent  flirtations,  if  I  were  to  give 
way  to  this  longing  for  prayer,  —  ha  !  ha  !  - 

The  lively  lady  suddenly  stopped.  Her  cheek 
blanched,  even  through  the  rouge. 


396  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"What  was  that?" 

"'That?''" 

Before  there  was  time  for  an  answer,  a  violent 
shock  sent  them  both  from  their  seats.  Lady  Betty 
shrieked,  and  clutched  Frankland  so  that  he  could 
not  rise  from  his  knees. 

There  was  an  awful  pause  of  thirty  seconds,  —  to 
the  appalled  city  it  might  have  been  thirty  years. 
Then  the  solid  earth  rose  beneath  their  feet,  —  rose 
and  fell  like  the  waves  of  the  sea.  Dizziness  seized 
the  brain.  The  sky  whirled  about  like  a  teetotum. 
The  universe  seemed  turned  topsy-turvy,  and  the 
bonds  of  universal  matter  unloosed. 

With  ashen  face  and  glaring  eyes  Frankland  saw  in 
his  delirium  the  tall  spire  of  the  Cathedral  rock  to  its 
base  and  fall  in  a  mass  of  ruins  upon  the  serried  thou 
sands  within  its  doors.  Everywhere  towers,  spires, 
and  turrets  sank  crumbling  to  the  ground,  and  the  air 
was  filled  with  an  infernal  roar  of  falling  walls. 

A  sudden  cry  of  "  Kaya !  Kaya !  "  arose  in  the 
street.  It  awoke  Frankland  to  life  and  energy. 
Seizing  the  reins  from  the  paralyzed  driver,  he  turned 
the  horse  to  the  river,  where  the  great  quay,  clear 
of  surrounding  buildings,  offered  a  haven  of  safety. 
Hundreds  besides  themselves  had  heard  the  cry  and 
were  hurrying  thither.  It  was  already  crowded  when 
they  came  in  sight.  They  might  yet  be  in  time  — 
there  was  still  space  for  more  —  a  few  yards  only 
intervened  —  they  were  rushing  on  at  frantic  speed, 
when  —  they  were  stopped  by  a  fearful  sight. 

Before  their  eyes  the  massive  pier,  loaded  with  its 
myriad  shrieking,  praying  victims,  turned  slowly 


ALL   SAINTS'  DAY.  397 

over  and  sank  to   unfathomable  depths  below   the 
quicksands. 

Mute  and  dumb  before  the  dread  cataclysm,  the 
hapless  human  creatures,  like  half-drowned  flies, 
crawled  in  the  dust  awaiting  their  fate.  Mother 
Earth  had  turned  to  a  devouring  fiend.  There 
seemed  but  one  refuge  left ;  they  turned  with  faint 
hope  to  the  sea.  Even  as  they  looked,  that  hope 
changed  to  despair  within  them.  The  deep  current 
of  the  Tagus  was  sucked  up  in  a  moment,  leaving 
the  broad  bed  of  the  river  dry.  Great  ships  were 
swept  out  to  sea  ;  others,  whirling  round  and  round 
like  spinning-tops,  dived  out  of  sight  in  the  swirl  of 
waters.  Another  moment,  and  a  despairing  cry  arose 
from  the  crowd :  — 

"The  sea!  the  sea!" 

The  great  Atlantic  seemed  indeed  to  have  risen. 
Far  off  a  mighty  wall  of  water  was  seen  moving 
slowly  inland. 

The  last  vestige  of  hope  and  courage  died  in 
Frankland's  heart.  He  sat  limp  and  nerveless,  watch 
ing  the  oncoming  flood  quite  unconscious,  as  it  seemed, 
of  the  wretched  creature  who  still  clung  to  him,  the 
foam  of  madness  upon  her  painted  lip,  babbling  of  God 
and  mercy. 

The  horse  alone,  with  the  instinct  of  preservation 
not  yet  extinct  in  him,  whirled  about  with  a  wild 
snort  and  dashed  back  into  the  thick  of  the  town. 

Amid  the  ruins  of  fallen  buildings,  over  the 
dead  and  dying,  through  the  blinding  dust  which 
blotted  out  the  sun  and  made  darkness  of  noonday, 
he  plunged  on,  unguided  in  his  frantic  course. 


398  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

Suddenly  the  earth  became  still.  As  if  with  intel 
ligent  and  devilish  malice  she  yielded  for  a  moment 
to  the  normal  sway  of  gravitation.  It  was  but  for 
the  briefest  space.  Before  the  poor  people  could 
shake  off  their  dizziness,  could  look  around  and 
study  chances  of  escape,  —  before  they  could  do  any 
thing  but  hug  to  their  heart  a  false,  deluding  hope, 
she  broke  loose  again  from  the  control  of  law  and 
brought  back  chaos  and  anarchy. 

The  horse  stopped.  A  great  heap  of  ruins  barred 
his  way.  There  was  a  movement  in  the  air.  Frank- 
land  looked  up.  A  dark  mass  tottered  above  them. 

"  Almighty  God  have  mercy  !  " 

The  cry  was  wrung  from  him.  He  saw  that  the 
end  had  come.  Lady  Bett}r,  in  the  last,  futile,  aim 
less  struggle  against  her  impending  doom,  caught  his 
arm  in  her  mouth  and  sank  her  teeth  through  into 
the  living  flesh.  The  next  moment,  with  a  roar  of 
thunder,  the  mass  descended  and  overwhelmed  them 
in  its  ruins. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

COALS   OF  FIEE. 

OTARTLED  by  the  first  shock  of  the  earthquake, 
O  Agnes  rushed  forth  into  the  street.  The  house 
sank  into  a  shapeless  ruin  behind  her.  A  creature 
and  an  animal,  she  obeyed  an  animal  instinct  and 
cowered  before  the  awful  convulsion.  Stock-still 
she  stood,  and  gazed  upon  the  wide  desolation  :  saw 
the  day  change,  in  a  moment,  to  night ;  saw  death 
overtake  every  living  thing  about  her,  yet,  held  fast 
as  in  the  horrid  paralysis  of  nightmare,  dumbly 
awaited  her  turn. 

Well  is  it  for  humanity  that  such  a  strain  cannot 
last,  —  that  hope  will  skirmish  in  the  very  face  of  dan 
ger,  and  custom  stale  even  extremest  terror.  With 
returning  self-possession  the  first  impulse  was  still 
animal  and  purely  selfish,  —  the  impulse  of  escape. 

This  was  not  for  long  ;  directly  another  impulse 
came,  —  came  as  visibly  as  lightning  athwart  a 
thunder-cloud.  Straightway  she  was  transfigured. 
The  new  thought  possessed  her  wholly,  driving  out 
every  vestige  of  fear  and  an}^  meaner  motive. 

Everything  is  equally  miraculous  to  the  deep- 
going  student.  To  the  vulgar  there  are  miracles  and 
miracles,  with  the  difference  that  some  do  not  stir  the 
blood.  Here  is  one  that  should,  —  this  spectacle  of 


400  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

a  commonplace  mortal  sweeping  in  a  trice  from  the 
lowest  note  to  the  highest  in  the  gamut  of  being. 
No  old-fashioned  stock  heroine  of  history  ever  struck 
more  surely  or  rang  forth  more  clearly  her  alt  limit 
of  range. 

Now,  for  all  their  influence  upon  her,  the  accu 
mulated  horrors  were  as  so  many  stage  effects  in  the 
cosmic  melodrama.  They  were  as  they  were  not. 
She  was  beyond  their  reach  —  unconscious.  To 
whomsoever  can  realize  it,  such  sublimity  in  an 
earthworm  may  well  confirm  a  wavering  faith  in 
immortality. 

Insensible  henceforth  to  every  danger,  —  the  falling 
walls,  the  rush  of  the  frantic  crowd,  the  wild  tramp 
of  runaway  horses,  —  she  made  her  slow  way  to  the 
Cathedral.  The  once  stately  pile  lay  before  her  a 
monstrous  and  unsightly  heap  of  rubbish.  She  stood 
staring  in  bewilderment,  doubting  the  evidence  of 
her  own  senses,  when  a  sudden  cry  arose  from  the 
crowd,  — 

"  Fogo  !  Fogo  !  " 

Too  true  it  proved.  The  last  fell  element  had 
been  let  loose  upon  the  doomed  city.  For  once  the 
fires,  kindled  upon  the  altars,  were  glutted  with  sac 
rifice,  as  with  hungry  flaming  tongues  they  revelled 
amid  the  ruins,  and  drank  the  blood  of  the  shriek 
ing  victims  beneath.  Agnes  turned  shuddering  from 
the  sickening  holocaust,  and  clinging  to  a  forlorn 
hope  set  out  to  find  Lady  Betty's  lodgings. 

The  darkness,  the  destruction  of  all  landmarks, 
the  wild  confusion  of  the  streets,  brought  her  to  a 
stand-still.  Realizing  presently  the  impossibility  of 


COALS   OF  FIRE.  401 

making  her  way  through  streets  where  at  best  she 
was  but  little  acquainted,  she  stopped  and  looked 
helplessly  about.  At  this  moment  there  was  a  move> 
ment  in  the  crowd.  As  by  a  common  impulse,  they 
all  began  rushing  in  one  direction.  The  whispered 
word  "  Kaya  "  —  whispered  with  a  selfish  but  futile 
attempt  at  concealment  —  came  to  her  ears.  She 
tried  to  escape,  but  was  borne  along  in  the  press. 

Directly  came  the  second  shock  of  earthquake,  — 
came,  not  in  short,  quick  tremblings,  as  before,  but 
with  a  long  sideway  roll,  like  a  ground-swell  at  sea. 
With  one  accord  the  crowd  flung  themselves  upon 
the  ground  and  poured  forth  frenzied  prayers  to  the 
Virgin. 

"  Misericordia  !  Misericordia !  "  The  air  resounded 
with  the  hoarse  and  impotent  cry. 

Reeling  with  vertigo,  Agnes  saw  somewhere  before 
her  dizzied  senses  the  vision  of  a  flying  chaise,  a  fall 
ing  building.  She  stretched  out  her  hands  and  made 
a  drunken  movement  to  go  toward  it,  but  was  pulled 
down  by  the  maddened  crowd. 

"  See  the  heretic  !   she  will  not  pray  !  " 

"  'T  is  the  heretics  are  the  cause  of  it." 

"The  city  is  overrun  with  them,  and  God  is  curs 
ing  us  ! " 

"  Misericordia !     Misericordia !  " 

"  Down  with  her  !  " 

"  To  your  knees,  she-devil !  " 

"Let  her  not  escape!  " 

"  Misericordia !    Misericordia  !  " 

"  She  shall  pray  !  " 

"  Make  her  kiss  the  cross  !  " 


402  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  Misericordia  !    Misericordia ! " 

Foreseeing  a  movement  of  violence,  Agnes  made  a 
vain  effort  to  escape.  She  was  caught  and  dragged 
back. 

"  Kneel !  kneel,  foul  witch  !  " 

"  Thrust  her  down  !  " 

"  Kneel,  unbelieving  devil !  " 

"  'T  is  you  are  the  cause  of  it !  " 

"  Toss  her  in  the  fire  I  " 

"  Nay  ;  give  her  the  cross  to  kiss  ! —  if  she  refuse, 
then  the  flames  !  " 

Frantic  with  eagerness  to  pursue  her  search,  and 
thinking  only  of  escape,  Agnes  fervently  kissed  the 
cross,  muttered  an  incoherent  prayer,  and  was  at 
length  suffered  to  go. 

Again  the  earth  became  still.  With  recovered 
equilibrium  she  started  forth.  That  buried  chaise! 
where  had  she  seen  it,  —  to  the  north,  south,  east,  or 
west  ?  Under  which  of  all  these  heaps  of  ruins  did 
it  lie?  But  why  search  ?  Among  the  hundreds  of 
buried  vehicles,  why  waste  time  — precious  time, 
whose  loss  might  be  fatal  —  upon  that  special  chaise  ? 

In  this  doubt  and  anxiety  she  groped  her  way  dis 
tractedly  amid  the  darkness  and  choking  dust  from' 
ruin  to  ruin.  In  vain  ;  in  the  universal  waste  there 
was  no  guide,  no  trace.  Despairing,  she  called  aloud 
the  name  of  Frankland.  Up  and  down  among  the 
masses  of  rubbish  she  went,  repeating  the  cry,  her  clear 
strong  voice  resounding  above  the  nearer  tumult. 

Stopping,  with  strained  ears,  to  listen,  she  heard  a 
feeble  moaning  near  at  hand.  What  then !  There 
was  moaning  and  groaning  on  every  side.  She  bent 


COALS   OF  FIRE.  403 

over  the  nearest  pile  of  rubbish,  and  waited  with 
bated  heart  and  breath.  Again  it  came,  —  plainly 
from  beneath.  To  this  side  and  that  with  frantic 
haste  she  flung  the  heavy  bricks  and  stones.  The 
perspiration  fell  from  her  face  like  rain  ;  the  dust 
blinded  and  choked  her ;  the  nails  and  splinters  tore 
her  arms  till  they  streamed  with  blood.  Unheeding 
all,  she  plied  her  task.  She  dug  as  a  hunted  animal 
digs  for  life.  The  moans  became  more  distinct. 
Presently  she  made  an  opening. 

"  Frankland  !  Frankland  I  " 

"  Agnes  ! " 

"  'T  is  you  —  God  be  praised  !  Courage  !  courage  ! 
Keep  up  your  heart ;  I  will  save  you  !  " 

"Air!  air!" 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  one  minute  !     You  shall  have  it !  " 

Again  she  flew  upon  the  rubbish  as  upon  a  mortal 
enemy,  flinging  out  mortar,  splinters,  nails,  and  broken 
glass  with  infuriated  zeal. 

"  Now  —  there  !  Can  you  breathe  ?  Harry  ! 
darling  !  do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"Yes  —  ye-es!" 

"  Courao-e  —  wait  then!  —  a  few  minutes  —  I  will 


save  you 


Working  at  her  task  with  might  and  main,  pausing 
now  and  then  to  speak  a  comforting  word  to  the 
prisoner,  she  came  at  length  upon  the  heavy  timbers 
of  the  roof  interlaced  and  wedged  together  in  such 
a  ponderous  mass  above  him  that  all  her  efforts  to 
move  them  were  in  vain. 

"Harry  —  these  timbers — I  cannot  move  them. 
I  must  go  for  help  !  " 


404  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

"  No,  no  ;  do  not  leave  me  !  " 

"  Only  for  a  minute  !  " 

"  Do  not  —  do  not  go  !  I  cannot  live  ;  it  is  of  no 
use.  My  time  is  come  !  " 

"  You  shall  —  you  must  live  !  I  will  save  you  !  — 
Wait !  wait !  and  be  patient !  " 

"  Stay  !  stay,  Agnes  !  Agnes,  darling,  do  not  go  — 
you'll  never  come  back.  The  earth  will  swallow 
you  —  will  swallow  us  both.  The  sea  is  rolling  in  ! 
The  Judgment-Day  has  come  —  speak,  darling !  " 

"I  am  here  !  " 

"  Say  —  say  while  I  can  hear  you  —  say  before  it 
is  too  late  —  " 

"  What  shall  I  say  ?" 

"  That  you  forgive  me  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  " 

"  All  my  wrong,  —  my  cruel  wrong  against  you  !  " 

"  I  do  ;  I  do — all,  everything —  But  oh  —  oh, 
darling  !  —  't  is  not  for  a  sinful  creature  like  me  to  for 
give.  Pray  to  God !  pray  to  Him  while  I  am  gone  ! " 

"  Agnes  !  —  Agnes  !  - 

The  piteous  cry  rang  in  her  ears  as  she  darted 
away. 

Flinging  herself  in  the  thick  of  the  throng,  she 
cried  aloud  for  help.  She  might  as  well  have  called 
upon  the  winds.  Men  and  women,  —  they  were  a 
herd  of  animals  under  the  sway  of  one  craven  in 
stinct.  By  such  as  were  calm  enough  to  listen,  her 
absurd  request  was  laughed  to  scorn. 

"  For  pity  —  for  mercy's  sake,  if  ye  be  men !  See  ! 
't  is  here  ;  't  is  but  a  moment,  to  lift  a  beam  —  he  will 
die!  Help!  help!" 


COALS   OF  FIRE.  405 

A  foreign  woman,  babbling  idiocy,  she  was  thrust 
aside  and  trampled  upon  by  the  fighting,  struggling 
crowd. 

"  Gold  !  gold  !  I  have  money ;  I  will  make  you 
rich  !  A  thousand  moidores  —  ten  thousand  —  ten 
thousand  gold  moidores  to  him  will  aid  me ! " 

Throwing  herself  again  into  the  press,  she  darted 
from  man  to  man  as  their  faces  held  out  promise  of 
success.  But  greed,  for  the  moment,  was  stifled.  A 
fiercer  and  overmastering  passion  held  sway.  Her 
magnificent  offers  were  spurned  by  the  beggars  of 
the  streets. 

Finding  her  efforts  vain,  back  she  rushed  for  one 
more  trial  of  her  unaided  strength.  Useless,  as  be 
fore  ;  she  could  not  budge  the  heavy  beams  an  inch. 
Again  she  flew  away  for  help. 

Some  sailors  were  passing  in  the  crowd ;  she 
plucked  one  of  them  by  the  sleeve :  — 

"  Help  !  help  !  Ten  thousand  moidores  —  broad 
gold  moidores  —  for  a  moment's  help  !  " 

The  man  flung  her  off  with  a  brutal  oath ;  she 
staggered,  and  fell  against  his  companion.  The  latter 
put  out  his  arm  to  catch  her. 

"  Job ! " 

«  Ag !  " 

"  God  ha'  sent  ye.  Quick,  quick,  mon  !  Lend  a 
hond  !  " 

"  Wher-r?" 

"  Her-r's  one  buried.  An  he  be  not  dead,  oi  ha' 
hopes  to  save  him  !  " 

He  turned  and  followed  her  several  paces,  then 
stopped  ;  a  dark  look  of  suspicion  and  hatred  settled 


406  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

down  upon  his  face.  She  saw  his  thought  in  a  flash. 
It  was  no  time  for  equivocation.  She  told  the  truth 
at  a  fatal  risk. 

"  Ay,  ay,  —  't  is  he  ;  oi  '11  not  deceive  ye.  He  ha' 
wr-ronged  ye,  V  oi  ha'  wr-ronged  ye,  'n'  ha'  paid  a 
heavy  pr-rice  for  't,  too.  Oh,  Job,  Job !  'T  is  no 
toime  to  horbor-r  gr-rudges  i'  this  awfu'  moment !  " 

She  held  him  clutched  by  the  arm  and  gazed 
breathlessly  into  his  face. 

"  Job  !  Job,  mon  !  we  storid  wher'  th'  earth  may 
open  'n'  swallow  us  the  next  minute.  Job,  oi  say, 
speak !  Say  ye  forgi'  me  !  say  ye  forgi'  him  !  " 

"  'T  is  God's  busness  !  "  he  muttered,  with  an 
awed  and  humbled  look. 

"  Haste,  haste,  then  !  This  way,  mon  !  Ye  wor  a 
giant  i'  th'  old  days ;  an  yer  strength  ha'  not  failed, 
we  '11  save  him  yet !  " 

Powerful  as  Job  was,  the  task  before  him  strained 
every  nerve  in  his  stalwart  frame.  The  heavy  tim 
bers  were  still  half  mortised  together.  He  worked 
with  a  fierce  will  and  determination,  aided  and  urged 
on  by  the  impatient  woman  at  his  side.  Lifting  a 
massive  beam,  he  at  length  made  an  opening  through 
which  Agnes  reached  down  and  clutched  the  suffer 
ing  man. 

About  to  drag  him  forth,  she  was  stayed  by  a 
ghastly  sight.  Lady  Betty's  lifeless  figure,  crushed 
almost  beyond  recognition,  lay  in  the  way.  Nerving 
herself  to  the  task,  Agnes  gently  moved  aside  the 
body  of  the  hapless  woman,  and  at  last,  with  the 
strength  of  hope  and  love,  dragged  forth  the  bruised 
and  wounded  man  to  the  outer  air.  His  wig  gone, 


COALS   OF  FIRE.  407 

his  face  bruised,  his  rich  dress  covered  with  lime  and 
dust,  there  was  nothing  but  his  voice  to  identify  him. 
Half  leading,  half  carrying  him  between  them,  Agnes 
and  Job  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  crowd,  intent 
like  them  upon  quitting  the  ruined  city  by  the  near 
est  way. 

An  hour's  hard  tramp  brought  them  to  the  open 
country.  They  were  amazed  to  find  it  still  day. 
The  sun  was  blazing  in  mid-heaven.  Ages  seemed 
to  have  passed  since  that  sun  had  risen.  The  pure 
air,  the  green  trees  and  herbage,  the  singing  birds, 
made  their  recent  experience  seem  like  an  escape 
from  Pandemonium.  Placing  Frankland  upon  the  soft 
grass,  Agnes  tenderly  brushed  the  dust  from  his  face, 
and  gazing  a  moment  to  assure  herself  that  he  was 
indeed  living,  burst  into  a  hysterical  fit  of  weeping. 

Frankland  was  too  exhausted  to  console  her  ;  Job 
made  no  attempt.  Leaning  against  a  neighboring 
tree,  he  gazed  back  upon  the  burning  town  with  a 
stern  and  stolid  look. 

Recovering  from  her  emotion,  Agnes  awoke  to  the 
situation.  With  characteristic  energy,  she  began  to 
discuss  further  measures  for  their  safety  and  relief. 
Job  listened  in  silence ;  the  wounded  man  heard, 
and  made  a  movement  to  speak.  She  leaned  over 
him  anxiously. 

"  Morley's  !  "  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

Agnes  understood  at  once.  Morley  was  a  friend 
who  had  a  country-seat  a  few  miles  from  town.  She 
drew  Job  aside  to  consult  as  to  the  best  means  of 
getting  there,  when  Frankland  called.  She  hastened 
to  him.  He  was  fumbling  for  his  pocket.  She  saw 


408  AGNES  SURR1AGE. 

his  intent,  and  drew  out  her  own  purse.  Pressing  it 
upon  Job,  she  sent  him  off  to  find  some  means  of 
conveyance. 

He  was  gone  an  hour,  and  came  back  leading  an 
ass,  for  which  he  had  paid  an  exorbitant  price. 
Meantime  Agnes  had  learned  from  stragglers  and 
fugitives  the  wildest  rumors  from  the  town.  The 
criminals  had  escaped  from  prison,  and  bands  of 
ruffians  were  roaming  the  countryside,  robbing  and 
murdering  all  who  fell  into  their  clutches. 

Filled  with  new  fears,  she  hastened  their  depart 
ure.  In  her  uncertainty  as  to  the  locality,  they 
were  several  hours  in  reaching  their  destination. 
The  house  was  already  filled  with  panic-stricken 
refugees  when  they  arrived,  but  their  kind-hearted 
host  took  them  in  with  warmest  welcome. 

Frankland,  who  meantime  had  somewhat  recovered 
from  the  shock  he  had  sustained,  bespoke  a  place  for 
Job.  The  latter  curtly  refused  the  hospitality. 

Presently  Agnes  was  called  away  to  make  some 
provision  for  their  accommodation.  Left  alone  with 
the  rough  stranger,  and  realizing  his  great  obligation 
to  him,  Frankland  feebly  attempted  to  express  his 
gratitude.  Job  listened  with  impatience,  and  an 
swered  bluntly,  — 

"  Spare  yer  thonks  !  Ye  moight  ha'  died  yonder, 
for  a'  o'  me  !  " 

Frankland  regarded  his  benefactor  with  natural 
perplexity. 

"  'T  was  for  her  oi  ha'  done  it.  Gi'  yer  thonks  to 
her  !  " 

"  At  least  I  owe  you  my  life  — 


COALS   OF  FIRE.  409 

"  Ye  owe  it  to  her,  oi  say,"  said  Job,  fiercely,  "  and 
God  Almighty  deal  wi'  ye  as  ye  remember  it !  " 

"  Amen !  "  groaned  the  conscience-stricken  man, 
overawed  by  the  unexpected  rebuke. 

There  was  a  silence  of  several  moments,  when  Job 
made  a  move  to  go. 

"  Hold !  you  shall  not  go  without  leaving  me  your 
name.  Willingly  or  unwillingly  you  have  saved  my 
life  ;  I  shall  not  forget  it.  I  am  in  no  condition  to 
reward  you  now,  but  I  shall  not  forget  it.  I  will 
have  an  eye  to  your  welfare,  and  if  I  live  you  shall 
have  your  deserts.  Meantime,  my  good  fellow,  take 
this  !  I  wish  it  was  more,  but  't  is  all  I  have  at  the 
moment !  " 

Agnes  entered  at  the  moment  and  heard  the  con 
cluding  words.  She  sprang  forward,  thrust  back  the 
proffered  purse,  and  turned  toward  Job  with  a  pallid 
face  and  deprecating  gesture. 

Plainly  it  was  well  for  Frankland  that  he  had  not 
spoken  these  words  in  health  and  vigor.  The  rough 
sailor  cast  upon  him  a  look  of  immeasurable  disdain, 
and  without  a  word  strode  from  the  room. 

"  Job  —  Job  !  "  cried  Agnes,  rushing  after  him,  "  ye 
will  not  go  without  a  word  to  me !  Job  —  Job,  oi 
say  !  " 

But  his  form  was  already  lost  in  the  gathering 
darkness,  and  the  sound  of  his  heavy  footsteps  smote 
with  remorseless  impact  on  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

JUSTICE. 

"ORISTLTNG  with  quaint  architectural  details,  the 
-D  picturesque  old  castle  of  Belem  stands  mid 
stream  upon  a  rock  near  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus. 
Scarcely  two  miles  from  Lisbon,  it  yet  escaped,  as  by 
a  miracle,  the  fate  of  that  city.  From  its  lofty  bat 
tlements  the  dismayed  King  witnessed  the  destruction 
of  his  capital.  "  Here  I  am,"  he  wrote  gloomily  to 
his  sister,  "  a  King  without  a  capital,  without  sub 
jects,  without  raiment."  Poor,  royal  puppet !  the  last 
touch  is  characteristic. 

Stunned  and  shocked,  his  demoralized  followers 
gathered  about  their  leader.  With  eyes  wide  opened 
to  their  late  frivolity  and  wickedness,  and  accepting 
the  earthquake  as  a  direct  punishment  for  their  sins, 
they  made  haste  to  put  on  an  outward  and  ill-fitting 
repentance.  Giving  up  for  the  moment  their  disso 
lute  practices,  they  abated  the  splendor  of  their  garb, 
forsook  the  theatres  and  bull-fights,  and  thronged  the 
churches. 

Hither  came  also  the  remnant  of  the  English 
colony.  Friends  and  kindred  lost  and  homes  de 
stroyed,  they  met  with  heavy  hearts  and  humbled 
looks. 


JUSTICE.  411 

Finding  no  longer  any  solace  in  the  brilliant  but 
arid  philosophy  of  Bolingbroke,  Voltaire,  and  Mes 
sieurs  the  Encyclopedists,  they  got  out  their  neglected 
prayer-books  and  conned  again  the  rubric  of  the 
derided  faith  of  their  fathers. 

No  sally  of  wit  or  clever  scoffing  now  enlivened 
their  gatherings ;  they  met  in  tears  and  silence,  save 
for  condolings  over  their  mutual  losses  and  bereave 
ments.  The  fact  that  from  day  to  day  faint  trem 
blings  of  the  earth  were  still  apparent  may  have  been 
a  potent  factor  in  their  state  of  spiritual  abasement. 

There,  with  the  rest,  established  in  cramped  and 
makeshift  lodgings,  were  Agnes  and  Frankland.  Al 
though  the  latter  was  found  to  have  sustained  no 
serious  physical  harm,  he  was  slow  in  recovering. 
He  had  at  least  been  badly  shaken  up.  But  severe 
as  had  been  the  shock  to  his  nerves,  it  was  nothing, 
as  presently  appeared,  to  a  more  tremendous  shock 
he  had  otherwise  received.  Agnes  noted  with  con 
cern  a  change  in  him,  —  a  subversive  change.  He 
was  sobered  to  the  core.  He  passed  days  in  speech 
less  meditation.  Nothing  availed  to  woo  back  the 
old  gay  smile  to  his  lips.  His  watchful  nurse  broke 
in  upon  this  abstraction  with  repeated  attempts  at 
cheer  or  solace.  He  noted  her  intent  and  feebly 
strove  to  rally,  or  more  frequently  folded  her  in  his 
arms  and  gazed  into  her  eyes  with  a  pathetic  ten 
derness  which  thrilled  while  it  puzzled  and  pained 
her. 

One  morning,  soon  after  he  was  able  to  go  about,  he 
called  for  writing  materials  and  spent  the  day  at  his 
desk.  He  seemed  to  be  making  up  a  long-neglected 


412  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

correspondence.  Despite  all  expostulation,  he  stuck 
to  a  task  plainly  beyond  his  strength.  He  arose 
in  the  evening  exhausted.  Seating  himself  wearily  in 
the  window,  he  called  Agnes  to  him.  She  went  and 
knelt  at  his  side. 

"  My  darling,  I  want  to  tell  you  what  I  have  been 
doing." 

"  You  have  been  working  too  hard." 

"  It  is  something  which  nearly  concerns  you." 

"  Does  n't  everything  you  do  concern  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  an  affectionate  smile. 

"  I  have  invited  a  great  many  people  to  come  and 
see  you." 

She  strove  to  suppress  a  puzzled  look. 

"  Many,  no  doubt,  you  will  not  care  to  see." 

Her  face  brightened  directly ;  here  was  a  sign  of 
reviving  interest  in  life  and  the  world ;  she  made 
haste  to  encourage  it. 

"  Whoever  't  will  please  you  to  have  come,  be  sure 
I  will  make  welcome." 

"But 'tis  best  for  you  they  should  come;  for 
your  sake  I  could  wish  all  who  have  ever  seen  or 
heard  of  you  should  be  here." 

Agnes  looked  concerned  ;  this  talk  seemed  a  little 
wandering. 

"You  do  not  understand,"  he  said,  reading  her 
face.  "  'T  is  no  wonder  you  do  not ;  read,  then,  for 
yourself !  " 

He  unfolded  and  spread  before  her  one  of  the  notes 
he  had  been  writing,  and  instinctively  turned  away 
his  head.  Several  moments  he  sat  thus,  staring  from 
the  window  with  a  look  as  if  awaiting  some  move- 


JUSTICE.  413 

ment  on  her  part.  She  did  not  speak.  There  was  a 
profound  and  breathless  silence  in  the  room. 

Turning  at  length,  he  beheld  her  upturned  face 
close  to  his,  the  sunset  light  falling  like  a  halo  about 
her  head,  her  eyes  shining  with  a  glorified  beauty 
through  the  tears  of  love  and  gratitude  which,  stream 
ing  forth,  flooded  her  face. 

And  not  a  word  was  spoken. 

Next  morning  the*  principal  English  residents  and 
many  of  the  native  nobility,  as  well  as  certain  high 
officials  at  Court,  received  cards  of  invitation  request 
ing  the  honor  of  their  attendance  at  the  marriage  of 
Sir  Charles  Henry  Frankland,  Bart.,  and  Miss  Agnes 
Surriage,  both  of  Hopkinton,  America. 

A  day  or  two  before  the  appointed  time  Agnes 
came  to  Frankland  with  the  request  that  an  effort  be 
made  to  discover  Job  and  bid  him  to  the  wedding. 
With  a  passing  look  of  surprise  Frankland  assented. 
But  Agnes  was  not  through.  She  had  something  else 
to  tell.  Simply  and  without  reserve,  then,  she  related 
the  history  of  Job's  life  and  disappointment,  and  her 
own  connection  with  it. 

Frankland  heard  for  the  first  time,  and  with  the  deep 
est  interest,  the  story  of  the  man  whose  path  he  had 
so  unconsciously  crossed.  Let  it  be  taken  as  character 
istic  of  him,  or  incidental  to  his  mood,  that  he  directly 
set  on  foot  a  vigorous  search  to  discover  Job's  where 
abouts.  The  attempt  was  the  more  hopeless  from  the 
fact  that  no  trace  could  be  found  of  the  American 
ship,  nor  could  it  be  ascertained  whether  she  had 
escaped  or  been  destroyed.  No  stone,  however,  was 


414  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

left  unturned;  messengers  were  sent  to  make  in 
quiries  among  the  sailors,  and  as  a  last  resort  Agnes 
herself  caused  messages  to  be  left  at  every  place  where 
he  could  be  expected  to  turn  up.  All  efforts,  how 
ever,  seemed  fruitless  ;  up  to  the  eve  of  the  wedding- 
day  no  tidings  had  been  heard  of  the  missing  man. 

The  eventful  morning  at  last  came.  The  story  of 
Frankland's  rescue,  the  fame  of  Agnes's  beauty  and 
devotion,  had  spread  far  and  near.  The  act  of  repa 
ration,  moreover,  was  so  in  keeping  with  the  spirit 
of  the  hour,  that  long  before  the  time  appointed  the 
magnificent  church  was  thronged,  not  only  with  the 
invited  guests,  but  by  the  general  public,  by  whom 
the  wedding  was  hailed  as  the  first  joyous  omen  after 
a  night  of  horrors. 

At  another  time,  or  upon  a  different  occasion, 
Agnes  would  have  been  abashed  in  presence  of  the 
unexpected  concourse.  Now,  it  might  have  been  the 
old  meeting-house  at  Marblehead,  or  the  Commis 
sary's  little  chapel  at  Hopkinton,  for  all  she  heeded  of 
the  surroundings.  Her  face  wore  the  serene  calm  of 
a  Sister  of  Charity  ;  her  dress  was  almost  as  simple. 

A  Roman  Catholic  priest  performed  the  service. 
All  creeds  and  ceremonials  were  then  as  one.  God 
was  the  real  priest,  and  consecrated  the  intent  which 
was  the  essence  of  the  sacrament. 

Passing  down  the  long  aisle  on  the  arm  of  her 
husband,  with  the  rich  light  falling  upon  her  bowed 
head,  the  benison  of  the  priest  still  resounding  in 
her  ears  mingled  with  the  joyous  pealing  of  the 
organ  and  the  hum  of  the  admiring  spectators,  Lady 
Frankland  suddenly  raised  her  eyes.  Was  it  pure 


JUSTICE.  415 

accident,  or  some  inexplicable  impulse  ?  Peering 
from  behind  a  neighboring  column  she  saw  a  swarthy 
face,  with  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  upon  her.  The  look 
was  grave  and  intent.  Often  and  again  in  after  years 
she  called  up  that  scene,  in  which  amid  all  the  grand 
and  sumptuous  surroundings  that  rugged  face  was 
the  central  point  of  interest,  and  comforted  herself 
with  the  assurance  that  there  was  neither  grief  nor 
anger  in  Job's  parting  look. 

She  betrayed  her  surprise  in  a  tightened  clutch  of 
her  husband's  arm  ;  he  looked  up  in  time  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  retreating  figure,  and  exchanged  a 
look  of  intelligence  with  her. 

Whether  on  account  of  the  interruption  of  business 
pending  the  rebuilding  of  the  city,  or  of  his  own 
health,  Franldand  determined  to  return  to  England. 
He  had  already  received  thence  a  flood  of  congratu 
lations  from  friends  and  kindred  on  his  escape.  In 
return,  he  wrote  back  the  story  of  his  deliverance  and 
marriage. 

They  were  detained  several  weeks  waiting  for 
their  transport,  —  an  English  ship  bound  from  Bra 
zil,  which  was  to  touch  at  the  port  and  reload  for 
England. 

A  crowd  of  English  and  Portuguese  went  to  see 
them  off.  It  was  surprising  how  popular  Lady 
Frankland  had  suddenly  become.  Superlatives  were 
wanting  in  which  to  set  forth  her  grace,  beauty,  and 
accomplishments.  She  accepted  the  ovation  quietly, 
and  with  certain  reserves  and  remembrances. 

The  voyage  home  was  marked  by  two  incidents 


416  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

of  differing  importance.  Whether  out  of  regard  to 
Agnes's  friends  at  home,  or  the  prejudices  of  his 
own  family,  Frankland  had  the  marriage  service  per 
formed  again,  —  this  time  by  an  English  clergyman, 
with  English  witnesses  and  ceremonial. 

The  marriage  proved  a  very  agreeable  diversion  to 
the  passengers.  The  bride  was  overwhelmed  with 
such  gifts  as  the  case  admitted  of.  Some  were  odd 
enough.  The  captain,  in  want  of  anything  more 
fitting,  gave  a  favorite  Brazilian  ape  of  great  intelli 
gence  and  docility. 

Lady  Frankland  was  much  amused  with  her  strange 
pet,  and  it  was  in  connection  with  it  that  the  second 
incident  above  mentioned  occurred. 

It  chanced  one  windy  day  they  shipped  a  sea  and 
a  lady  passenger  got  soused.  She  had  carelessly 
hung  her  clothes  to  dry  where  the  busy,  roving  ape 
caught  sight  of  them.  The  hoop-petticoat  was  a 
novelty  of  untold  possibilities  to  the  monkey  genius. 
Hastily  investing  himself  with  it  —  the  waistband 
drawn  tightly  about  his  neck  —  he  suddenly  appeared 
upon  deck.  Agnes  stood  near  the  gangway  when 
he  came  bounding  up.  Knowing  of  the  lady's  mis 
hap,  she  understood  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and 
made  a  futile  effort  to  rescue  the  garment.  But 
quick  as  a  flash  the  ape  darted  past  her  and  went 
cavorting  about  the  deck. 

The  grotesque  appearance  of  the  hairy  legs  and 
tail  below  the  skirt,  and  the  sedate,  mischievous  face 
above,  the  screams  of  the  passengers,  the  shocked 
consternation  of  the  owner,  —  the  clergyman's  maiden 
sister,  —  proved  too  much  for  Agnes's  gravity.  She 


JUSTICE.  417 

gave  way  to  irresistible  laughter.  Like  a  moun 
tain  stream  bursting  forth  to  the  sunlight  after  a 
long  course  underground,  her  laughter  caine  pealing 
forth,  —  the  native  sound  of  mirth.  With  choking 
voice  she  tried  to  reassure  the  indignant  lady.  With 
tears  streaming  down  her  face  she  pursued  the  agile 
and  roguish  trespasser. 

Unmoved  by  the  spectacle  from  the  ludicrous  point 
of  view,  Frankland  was,  however,  profoundly  inter 
ested.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  not 
heard  Agnes  laugh  like  that  for  years,  —  not  since 
the  old  happy  days  at  Tileston  Street.  He  was 
startled  at  the  thought.  It  was  a  revelation  which 
sent  a  tardy  reflection  backward  upon  certain  dark 
passages  in  the  past.  Like  an  antidote  administered 
with  the  bane,  however,  the  consolation  here  came 
hand  in  hand  with  the  remorse.  Already  justice  had 
wrought  its  beneficent  restorative  work.  The  wound 
at  least  was  healed,  if  he  could  not  forget  the  scar. 

One  last  triumph  awaited  the  happy  bride.  Ar 
rived  in  London,  they  drove  straight  to  Clarges 
Street.  Frankland  had  sent  word  to  have  the  house 
made  ready.  The  news  of  the  ship's  arrival  had  pre 
ceded  them,  and  they  had  already  been  expected 
some  hours,  when  at  length,  just  at  nightfall,  the 
carriage  drove  up  to  the  door.  They  found  the 
house  blazing  with  light,  but  thought  no  more  of  it 
than  that  the  servants  wanted  to  emphasize  their 
welcome.  As  they  weariedly  mounted  the  steps, 
full  of  the  home-returning  thoughts  of  rest  and  com 
fort,  the  doors  were  flung  open  before  them.  In 
the  midst  of  the  glare  of  light  and  the  crowd  of  ser- 

27 


418  AGNES  SURRIAGE. 

vants  stood  Mrs.  Frankland  and  her  daughters. 
Agnes  stopped  as  if  petrified,  with  her  foot  upon 
the  portal. 

Frankland  instantly  stepped  forward ;  but  his 
mother,  with  a  certain  fine  instinct  repressing  her 
natural  impulse,  passed  him  by,  and  advanced 
toward  the  doubting  figure  upon  the  threshold. 
Putting  her  arms  about  the  daughter  of  the  poor 
fisherman  of  Marblehead,  she  cried  in  broken  tones, 
"  God  bless  you,  my  dear,  dear  daughter !  " 


University  Press  :  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


Date  Due 


PRINTED  IN   U.S. 


CAT.    NO.    24    161 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  427514    3 


